Winter has a smell.

 What you are, I couldn't tell 

Exactly. Maybe a log, 

Burning to a crisp. 

Or maybe great city smog, 

Shining through the mist. 

Maybe the sickly smell of rain, 

Or maybe the sweet stink of pain. 

Whispers of a soft autumn day,

 As it fades into oblivion, fades away. 

As I walk outside, you fill the air;

 You're in my head you're in my heart you're everywhere 

You blind my nose and numb my toes,

 Who knew a scent could be so cold ?

 I wonder. Are you old 

To this world, or shiny new ? 

An innocent just-bought shoe 

That doesn't quite fit, yet, 

Waiting patiently to be broken

 In by Spring's oakenFist.

 But I now I can let 

Your identity escape my lips: 

Life's Last Breath.