The walk had been freezing

relentless, gruesome.

It had been snowing and snowing

the woods mumbling a deadly song.

Two souls were wandering till night

through blank and blinding white,

Their hands numb with frostbite

a timid fire creating their only delight

The one mate was sleeping

the other stood guard.

The cold was creeping

Keeping the fire was hard.

Do not play with the fire

it’s your life’s thread

You might add a stick,

but too much, and it’s dead.

Maybe just leave it, don’t touch.

You wouldn’t want to be

the one who killed the fire.

But it’s weakening quietly.

The wood is damp. The fire will die.

The snow above might fall.

Should you wake your friend?

Or let him sleep through it all?