Wood creaks from feeling tired and old,
The wind whistles its song of cold,
The winter of her life comes and goes,
As she hopes for spring to unfold.

But she still remains December...

The snow trickles like a trail of tears,
As she waits for years and years,
Hoping to see through the fog and find the clear,
She hides away all of her fears.

There is an anticipation that soon she would discover herself within the embers...

The fire...