I hear a crow, sending it's plea,
The winter has come, the time is to flee.
Cold mothers hands, will rip off its wings,
Life must now hide under a layer of Winters skin.

I remember the warmth of Summers embrace,
The smell and the feeling, the Spring would place.
The beauty of color, the sympthony of trees,
The howling of Autum as it regretfully leaves.

Now like that crow, I sit in the snow.
So open, so cold, I've forgotten my home.
My wings - frozen shut, feathers stripped away,
Waiting for another cold mothers embrace.