“How did I get here?”,
He ponders.
It pollutes his mind,
As the chill of the wind,
Sends shivers down his spine.
His hair resembles the weather outside,
Grey and white,
Faded with him,
The wear and tear of time.
“How did I get here?”,
He mutters to himself.
It echoes off the walls,
Flung from the jaws of wolves,
As the breeze returns,
Howling down the halls.
The frost nips at his heels,
It surrounds him,
Crowds him,
And that final gust reveals,
All he wanted was some help,
Something to put on his mantle,
A warm body to watch him,
Blow out his last candle.