when the evergreen withers
to a winter unseen
her green turns ginger
and her lips turn faint
her feathered child dies with the chill
and the hollowed out home hums no merry tune today
she who kept the gleeful number quaint
she who broke the silence of the ached  
now lies timber on the fires of rage
slowly turn to orange ambers
that lit the night of a candle-less grieving