The touch of my hand

sends a shiver down your spine;

my palm is neither sweaty nor comforting

for my veins have been frozen

longer than a passing season's time.

The winter air is quite brutal;

Oh, thick with wind it may be,

but the gust of my heart

blowing down the body of prisoners

cannot compare to thee.

Water exposed to the depths

of an everlasting January craze

finds itself changing without consent.

You may dare to wonder outside

and wrap yourself in my embrace

and I shall open my arms up wide

as long as your kindhearted smile

can accept that the ashy fireplace

within my soul will never be set ablaze.