The face upon the face,
Who does tell the truer?
In quiet moments there consumed,
In thoughts so running pace on pace,

It truly seems in place,
Who does know the thinner?
In smiling setting so bejeweled,
In unfit force a trace of trace.

Tall spires mingle amidst the trees,
Playing cards upon long shadows,
Biding time for amber wisps to freeze into a blue,
To decorate their heads with snow.

I am bitten by the cold today,
In pieces by the frosted fields,
Yet I'm carried on great shards of ice,
That bend halfway, and thud the ground,
I hide my chin, my hands within
A plastic sheet with zips and pleats.