The cab hums a tired hymn, Headlights scraping pale horizons. A Santa hat slumps against the frost, Lifeless as the billboard’s plastic glow. Knuckles white on the wheel, Eyes stitched to endless grey— As if somewhere, just beyond the mist, The world might still believe in cheer. Billboards flicker green, A hollow promise of warmth. But the silence creeps colder, Thick as the smoke in his lungs. The road blurs, Another mile swallowed whole. Somewhere, snow begins to fall, Unseen.