She is Winter

I see her below the white-dusted trees,
Pressing holly berries onto her tongue
The redness stains her lips a cherry, that
Kisses the bright lights she's strung. She
Walks along the orchard wall, where the
Apples used to fall. The trees now stripped
Of fruit and leaf, but stand a kingdom tall.
The freezing winds press cold breaths,
Down her pale, sparkling skin. Teeth as
White as the first snowfall, when she bares
Her beautiful grin. I dare not follow down
The roads, when I think she might be
Departing, for moments later I stand and
Watch the snow falling, quietly, quietly...