Who could the person be knocking frantic at my door I'll never know.
What urgent matter pounding on the wooden door in the bitter snow,
Nothing there but winter wind lashing at my face greeting me with a roar.
But no one around only the falling snow gathering upon the floor.

Not a single soul anywhere in sight in the cold,
cold of the night;
But a lamppost forlorn to soldier on mustering
a dimly light.
Though how hard with might the glow will not suffice
To break through falling snowflakes and freezing ice.

How nice it would be I wish to see the morning  sun rise?
How rays pry and thaw and **** the ice, sending them to their demise.
Water flows into streams into lakes and bring it to the brim;
And yearns for the grass to grow, birds to sing and fish to swim.
And longs to taste the sweetness of spring awash with the colours of the rainbow.
While the lamp's dim light casting, in the darkness somewhere a frosty shadow.
I'll never know, still waiting, before I slammed
the door,
Stopped the snow from piling onto the floor.