Time Sink

Added layers of comfort, shields nicely

From the fields that feel icy

The frost is oft biting, it does not scorn

Better not dally with fingertips warm

Icicles in disguise, worry not about pride

Scurry home while you've still got time

You made it back, not a moment too soon

Clock hands stuck, need to progress anew

At the sink, brink of night 'til closest to noon