The harshness of the wind
Scarred permanently on their faces
Torn by the elements and worn by weariness
Their eyes, gaunt and sunken in
From the radiance of the sun
The years of labor in the winter wrath
Depicts a grace wholly vanquished, crushed by the
crystalline rafters above
All memories fallen like snow
All attempts to escape blown away
As witness, the petite old lady perseveres
Her hair unkempt
As she stands there
The matriarch encased in a globe
Of incredible searing white
Her tears glitter like diamonds
Turning to ice as they gently fall
On her tiny dilapidated boots.
