in the heat of winter

come december,

the sun will weep,

for the untouched earth,

in despair's melody

the brazen moonlight,

will shine on white,

and the warmth of my soul,

will declare war,

in the face of snow

but,

should the freight of death,

approach my skin,

i will speak of the ache,

that lingers between my lungs,

and he will know,

to mend my heart,

with shades of your hair,

he will know,

to decorate your absence,

in the colour of my life