Snow so cold it freezes everything,
Yet it looks so mystical fluttering around before landing.
Sheets of white mask my surroundings,
Hiding their true colors.
Never to be seen again until spring.
How can something so cold and deadly
Be so beautiful and pure?
Covering the ground in layers of pristine white
That sparkles in the sunlight the next day.
I'm almost afraid to traverse it,
As if I would disturb its beauty.
So I remain indoors
And admire it from afar
In the warmth of my home.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Poet
PoetryPoems about random things I find fascinating. And a more articulated way of getting things off my chest.
