As primaeval voices cheered them on.
Candlesticks began to spit.
The fireside abandoned warmth.
\'Twas a fight to the death.
As autumn became winter,
both lost their marbles.
No more love of sisterhood entwined.
The atmosphere was decidedly unhinged,
for the scent of melancholy teased a cloudy sky,
breathless and twilight pink,
with teardrops frozen to pavements.
As humans walked an extra mile,
air-fresh endeavors of hats, scarves, and mittens,
plagued by the foam tinsel antics of December.
Dowdy hymns were way out of their league,
with many an empty chorus
from optimistic choirs performing their ritual within winter\'s firelight.