The cry that pierced the cruel and gleaming night,

A sound that shook the world making it stop

Sharp, cutting through the chilling winds of the cold twilight,

Chilling, like the icicles that hung from the high roof top,

Words that no one knew or wanted to,

A stranger, to myself and those around me, it stung

Blue, perhaps, or a startling red,

Unspoken, don’t speak it, might it cut your tongue,

The soft, silky white snow, look up, what’s that? How unusual

A winter night sky, was it always such a tinted color?

Pastel Purple. Perhaps, it was always so beautiful,

Growing taller, happier, with no dolor,

The white snow, gentle and soft, coming from the heavens falling, from above

Truth, honesty, genuinity, love.