Winter,
The darkest season.
The snow comes to life,
Everything else dies.
Burgundy, red, maroon, orange, yellow,
The fall colours that litter the streets,
All turned brown, decaying, rotting,
only momentarily emerging from the snow,
to be covered again  and again until spring.
The skeletal remains of trees, shadows of summer,
Litter the streets,
Empty, alone, an eyesore.  
The only saving grace, Christmas lights.
Bulbs burned out, left up all year long.
Glowing brightly, guiding the way through the long cold nights.
The streets all but deserted,
Save for one man,
Alone, cold, fighting his way forward,
Trying to escape the barren icy streets,
Only to make it home,
To sit alone.