City Snow

When the city is cloaked in snow,
And stranded cars slip and slide,
In hopeless mired haste,
Amidst deep white drifts,
Then left by the side of the road,
Like so much metal litter,
Their engines dead, fuel lines frozen,
And the streets are almost empty,
As people sit before their fires,
And seek to eke a little heat,
From the flames or red hot bars,
Then a mystic silence settles,
Soft as flakes upon the city,
Burying beneath its veil of beauty,
All the horrors that hide beneath.