Cold wind blows
Clean and clear
Past a chimney
Clean of smoke
Whistles through
Cold bare hearth
Into a room
With a tree
Balls and icicles
Hang on limbs
Lights unlit
Dark are now
Underneath
A bare floor
Hopes unseen
Dreams to be
Father sits
Softy cries
For his children
Fast asleep
Morning comes
And hopeful eyes
To dark room
Empty and cold