Winter's Impression

Find me near the fire place. Hiding from the cold that seems neverending.
Theres not enough heat in the chair that I usually charm.
My heart has no heater, no furnace to speak of.
Winter came, and is here to stay. I fear that the end will never come.
The end of snow, the end of cold.
Cold.
Hope turns from smiles, to a small fire, keeping my hands luke warm.
Enough to melt my blood from clay, to oil.
Veins open up, skin turns pale.
The cold retreats further into the body.
Eyes half opened, body curled up tight.
Hands are warm.
Its good enough...