This is, more or less, free verse.


A Cold Christmas Warmed.


And he believed the way home was a secret,
Disguised by winds and sands of bewilderment.
For the path was coloured with his deeds
And not for him to find.

And he wanted to run away with someone
In the clear confusion of his darkness.
Wanted that which would absolve
And salve his conscience.

But for Severus Snape the way was blocked
By a barrier of his own design.
There was nothing in him
That could breathe free.

And if he could have unlocked his doors,
The doors that led to his own desire,
He might have found the
Answer within him.

But there were barriers and solid reasons
That kept him tongue-tied and resolute.
He turned away from that
Which was unpalatable.

Love and life, joy and peace, delight and laughter
Were all such ugly words that brought
Tides of revulsion with them
On rolling waves.

But what if someone else held the key
To his solidly frozen locks of life
That would melt the dryness
And the pain.

Would the season of cold and ice allow
Such a mellow enchantment to pierce
The hard flank of the man
Who knew no love?

Love drips slowly from sacred sources and fires
The desires of those who would push it away,
To the point were even the hardest heart
Cannot resist the honeyed heat.

And so she came, with her naked heart
To light a flare beneath his own cold
Stone of night, and to breathe life
Where there was none.