How can I tell them about the cold?
Here, such a penchant for rain
we have,
and such an unhealthy love of snow
we have,
We have hopes
made of steel and icicles.

And it’s strange—

Hey, here’s something cold and gray:
night falling, snow falling, eyes falling
asleep,
eyelids like a sagging roof,
and me like a crooked bend
in the highway.

And it’s strange—
But don’t you think it’s strange?

Oh, don’t wake me
from the cold and the snow and the rain.

With my arm around the candle

And my boots thumping on the ground

Though the sky is still gray

I'm still coming

Out in the dim lit earth

To see Your glory dawn.  

(written when it was 6:41, in the morning, waking from a dream)

The world is so cold,
so empty, so bare,
so bitter and gray
without sunny skies fair

But those skies have long gone,
they left along with you,
all the joy you brought to me
has now vanished too

The world is so cold,
like a stone, gone all numb
too dark to see where I'm going
or where I've come from

Where is my sunshine,
where is my light?
where is my heart?
when will my world be right?