One weary winter’s night he walked alone,
Assaulted by the apathetic cold;
A youngling yearned for years but felt so old,
Travailing over the troubles life had sown.
Familiar streets had never seemed so strange,
And streetlamps never lacked so much for light,
Nor buildings ever bloomed at such a height,
As if their end was to his mind derange.
He strolled morose, not with the stars nor moon,
But only with tenacious wind in tow,
And as it chewed his cheeks and numbed his toe
He sighed, for spring could not arrive too soon.
A shadow! Shocked, he spun around to see
The spirits trace their tails upon the ground,
The shimmering shades that slide without a sound
And frolic, fading right just beneath his knee.
He caught the curious creatures’ dazzling dance,
Forgetting all the freeze had forced on him,
For seeing sparkling sprites swirl on a whim
Had made his mind to trip in half a trance.
He fell for one, a friendly frosted face,
Who swooped upon the sidewalk so carefree
And swept and spiraled sweet to stare at he,
Who whispered as it went without a trace.
And then he found he did not feel cold’s bite;
Without the wind, the glimmering ghosts were gone.
Remorseful of the rudeness, he raced on,
And thanked the thoughtful things for brief respite.
He realized then what the shades had shown,
And sauntered on, with spirits out of sight.
Nevertheless, despite a darkling plight,
He never walked a winter’s night alone.