~*~Soft as a Rose~*~

The wind bites my face
The wind bites my toes
The wind wants to race
With me as it's foe

I grasp for the next
Chunk to stand
But my feet need to rest
And so do my hands

I take a deep breath
And give a great sight
And think about Death
And I look towards the sky

And the wind burns my face
And freezes my toes
And the fall from grace
Will be soft as a rose...