Icy Soul

Her fingers were blue,
Icy claws grip her spine,
On the streets at only nine,
Winter is ruthless, cruel and cold,
If only she had someone still here to hold,
She can sit by a fire,
Toasty and warm,
But she cant get rid of this icy night's storm,
Because the cold isnt in her fingers,
It isnt in her toes.
In this poor young girl, the cold is in her soul.
Shes seen too much, had too little.
Shes now too fragile, tiny and brittle.
When every child lays down to bed,
She sits down and looks ahead,
To when she joins her family,
Bright in the sky
To the time when she can be truly warm and dry.