The North wind blows past,
Turning pages to unveil the end.
A blurred skyline –
Through the frosty window pane.
Unsure of what waits ahead.
The weary legs follow the wind
Not to ignore its beckoning
The mirage of warmth —
Provokes further steps.
At the farthest end lies a barricade —
Made of enticing ice
Encaged stays all earthly life.
The flakes fall as to reign over —
Abating the warmth of beating hearts
Exhaling sullen, misty breath
Covering the eyelids —
Of the owners of the last breath.
