It's a cold winter night,
Everything seems to be foggy white.
In this frosting moonlight,
The dark horizon's fading out of sight.

Like a caterpillar in its cocoon,
We're chilling at our hot room.
To some, this night is a boon
But for some it's a night of doom.

Looking through my window-pane,
I'm enjoying the dew-drops as the drops of rain.
Some men are sitting down the lane,
I can see them shivering with cold and pain.

Shivering under that cold and open sky,
They're yearning for some fiery eye'.
Their lips are getting pale and dry,
This cold night is torturing them to die.

They're slowly dying in this freezing night, yet pretending to be okay...
Facing this terrible situation, don't know, how to get away?
Neither questioning the situation nor knowing, how long like this they've to stay?
They're just hoping for a sunny tomorrow where they can enjoy the warmth of the day...

copious stories
are told about it
and it is of a floating
figure's fit

on one of them
coming into your view
it may give you a
shivering chill's preview

it can be loitering
on a dark stairway
waiting to unnerve
your very clay

dare you walk into
the old mason's yard
for there's a phantom
inside the said yard

Vincent Price can readily
evoke a scream
as his voice lends its self
to such a deem

‘tis the season,
of coldness.
my frost-bitten
figertips are sick
of the cold.
my red nose
and rosy cheeks
burning from the snow.
i wish i could drown
in the hot-cocoas
i long for.
my shivering arms
and cold toes
just want to be warm.
the darkness of the winter
makes the darkness
in my mind
find it’s way back.
spark me a flame—
thaw my cold heart
and hands.
remind me of warm thoughts,
the summer sun,
the burning of hot sand—
ugh, there’s only
snowflakes and frost.
i guess i’ll deal until
the warmness
finds its way back.