His skin
is dry and faded
like the bark of naked trees gathered.

His eyes
are dark, stormy, grey,
like the sky of a snowy day.

His muscles
are lean and strong
like the harsh winds that blow cold and long.

His lips
chapped and pale
like foot steps in the snow that go out to get the mail.

His personality
is bitter and unmerciful
like the emptiness of the lull.

He is Winter.
Long and lingering.
His favorite.