I trudged along on a cold evening,
The pretty snowfall seemed
To be an ugly mess;
Had it been beautiful
If I’d been in my wools
Instead of dragging my rag?
A fire crackles in the distance;
I race past faces I know nought
To squat by faces who knew me not.
The flames dance before my eyes,
I look into its still heart;
A wet shade of blue weeps inside.
The flames had lent me warmth
And yet I felt a bit queer cold.
Should I stay basking in a fire
That consumed another one?
Or should I trudge along
Shivering in my need for warmth?