Snowmen gather, faceless yet seen, Under green skies, humming, unseen. The light bleeds cold through hollow glass, A Cadillac sinks in slush and silence, Its chrome a hymn to days long passed. Figures linger—waxen and strange, A murmur of laughter, a flicker of rage. The night swallows questions it cannot forgive, As engines fade, but the glow still lives.