The wreath wilts, draped in frost, A holiday crowned for all that's lost. Steel breathes slow on shattered ground, Where echoes of footsteps make no sound. Faded green, the streets still gray, A car forgotten, but led astray. In headlights' glare, the truth unfolds, Time's a ghost no man can hold. The cold winds hum their hollow verse, Each mile forward, a quiet curse. Lights burn dim, as hearts erode, Endless nights, on empty roads.