Belated is your arrival
as all is prepared
and your path laid out before you.
Boisterous ones await the momentum
your passing will provide.
Elders fear the numbing stagnation
your presence will leave behind.
Red cheeks,
violet hands hurry
as your violent breaths
herald your approach.
Are we to awake
and find you have gone?
Are we to awake
to your icy desolation
of a world that knew warmth
merely a moon ago?
Are we to awake
to icy nips and blanketed snow?
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