Howling winds drive the leaves astray.

Inside, the heater toils away,

In vain pursuit of the warmth of a day.

The sun has gone

Beneath the horizon,

Spreading life for another one.

Thousand meteors knock on my door.

I can’t pretend to answer anymore.

The old soul will not fall prey,

For it’ll know when it’s another day.

As I lay on my freezing bed,

Cold, silent and halfway to hibernate,

The heater’s hum, the wind’s howl,

And a beating heart’s ember

Spell out the harmonies

Of a grey decaying December.