As winter descends on the forest so coldnThe forest breathes deep and lets out a sighnCreaking and groaning like the one that is oldnThe forest strains to hold up the skynWhere once a creek flowednNow there is glassnMirroring skeletons of trees and dead grassnAnd bright colored leaves imprisoned by the frostnFloat down from the sky and soon become lostnIt was here that I found a path of hard groundnThat held the light like a fog as a strollednAnd that light it weighed down my coat to the groundnA dream that was held in the palm of your handnHas split like a tear and frozen the landnWhat used to be certainnWhat used to hold fast nSeems to split, to tearnAnd can never last