Gray trees rise frozen-lonely from a landscape of ashen snow.
Sentenced to endless winter, where arctic shards bitterly blow
Away my crimson days of pleasure. Was love so long ago?
Quickly comes Christmas, my friends must hurry home—
Sad-relieved-retreating—to the lives that are their own;
Well-meaning are their whispers, “She needs her time alone.”
A glacial space wraps ‘round me, the mantle of my pain.
No spring could ever warm-to-thaw, this icy-bleak terrain.
A snow-blind soul and mementos; are all that now remain.
The heavens hear me cursing, broken and bereft,
“How could meteoric brilliance, be burned up by cold death?”
This is not the life I’d chosen; just the one I have been left.
Your life force still has passion, blood-fused into my brain;
Your memory is a moment entwined with joy and pain,
Reminding me I’ll never touch your blessed face again.
The blizzard wind screams a refrain that chills me through and through:
I never will recover from the fire of loving you—
I never will recover.