Winter river flows
'neath the eaves of silvered brown
leafless and bereft-

I'm torn, Gods only know
what was ours - it's just mine now
her warp and his weft-

I let it happen.
Children's blood is on my paws.
Snow can never pause.

Festering Z'krell
whispered in me: "Let them rot."
I have not forgot.

Winter is for pain.
Red and white, life-death, at play-
not an easy growth,

and by whose, Whose, will
Winter's river ebbs and flows?
Everybody knows-

DIA'RUIS lives.
DIA'RUIS is our Queen;
SHE is eternal.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 16th of Sapiarch, in the year 15 AC.