Winter's too cold for me,

My fingers are a solid pack,

I want to be free

Of the solid-block plaque,

I stretch on a spree

So the ice will crack.

Tiny shards flow to

Abandoned, frosted lanes,

Blood begins to pump anew,

Life returns to my veins,

The ice travels my body through.

The chill reaches my brains.

In the morning, I seek

Practicing musical pieces,

But cold renders me weak,

Can't keep tempo increases

Can't move my physique,

My comfort only ceases.

Before I start to play,

I need function to begin.

Frigid water will purvey

Warmth to my skin,

For the temp of spray

Heats mine within.

As my hand stretches,

Fingers splinter and groan,

Renders skill to sketches,

Pain crushes like stone,

Strings make their etches

In frosted bone.