"I'm gay" she informed "Don't hit on me" they respond "I wouldn't" "You what?"

A face covered in lines Yet never traced

Within the cold heart of winter lies flecks of warmth, Tiny pumps of life powering limbs through the storm. Beasts of life's burden trudge towards the north, The cold wind and the snow obscure their form.

Scale clad monster of spark, You turn to the gods and devils and deities. The answer you seek will you hark, And line your stars like the Pleiades?