A Dream of Blazing Hailstorms

In a blissful, fitful sleep, I had once

A dream, so real yet fake

A house, no a blazing inferno, in the middle of a blizzard land

I stood there, alone, not lost, longing for a friendly hand

The ice pelted down from the heavens above, spiteful

And the fire raged on inside that house, blazing and contorting

I splayed out my gloved fingers against its burning walls,

And I watched, stone faced, as the fire raged on through the halls

The land outside the window was white and barren

Save the footsteps, that printed themselves on the snow 

Frost encased the cracked, yellowing glass, slowly, bit by bit

It crept up my hands, and the fire inside did nothing to quell it