Burn into the color of a sunset,
Painfully bright in the white of every color,
Standing out against the snowy day of 
Impressionable blissful drift of 
Flakes; catching gently upon his head,
And his green eyes pierce in the haze of 
Blithering night, watching for the 
Angel of Hell to grab him by his hand
And lead him home; burning his cheeks 
With embarrassing mistakes in the makings of 
A Frosty the Snowman wanna-be,
But, watch how the street lights burn 
Him into the brightness of love,
Carressing his cold lips with yellow color,
Afire with the snow dancing lazily around him,
Passing into his face; a simple grace of joy,
Repeating his own words, and he laughs
At the philosophical outlook of his lies,
Just as he turns to glimpse at the purified world,
He traces new lines into new powder,
A show how he waltzes in the winter.