Cold steel pulses in the grey.
Iron fences block the way.
Jagged edges cut the light.
Silver frost turns black to white.
Counting steps on frozen ground.
Where the heavy boots resound.
Cracked glass panes and winter air.
Counting steps that lead nowhere.
Scent of pine and rusted wire.
Wet fur damp beneath the spire.
Five red bricks and one gold stone.
Walking this old path alone.
Sharp white shards across the floor.
Locked away a wooden door.
Muddy prints in perfect lines.
Tangled up in ivy vines.
Counting steps on frozen ground.
Where the heavy boots resound.
Cracked glass panes and winter air.
Counting steps that lead nowhere.
Hold the breath and wait for sign.
Cross the faded yellow line.
Cold wind bites the salted skin.
Let the heavy beat begin.
Greenhouse walls are thin and lean.
Pale leaf veins of sickly green.
One more turn around the bend.
Wait for this long walk to end.
Counting steps on frozen ground.
Where the heavy boots resound.
Cracked glass panes and winter air.
Counting steps that lead nowhere.
Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Coldest winter I have seen.
Counting steps.
Counting steps.
