She was used to the cold by now,
The color of her face matching the red of her hair,
The tips of her fingers long-numbed…
“Sleep, baby, sleep”

It was actually getting comfortable.
The metal bench was a warm bed.
The icicles hanging from the shelter were decorations.
“Our cottage vale is deep”

It took too much effort to breathe,
Lying down meant prying her face off the metal,
But at least the frozen air didn’t burn her lungs anymore,
“The little lamb is on the green”

Children, her children, were playing in snow,
Maybe they were immune to the freezing wind too,
A deep shiver ran through her spine; were they cold?
“With snowy fleece so soft and clean”

Alice! Ben! Tom! Come! Come and get warm!
She used her remaining strength to take off her own coat
Are you cold? Oh, you’ll be warm and cozy in no time!
“Sleep, baby, sleep”

Her children were smiling,
Her children were warm,
And she had sung them her last lullaby,
“Sleep, baby, sleep”