The Winter deep



“Nothing burns like the cold.” ― George R.R. Martin

The winter hallows snow upon the deep 

it shall not pass the dawn of the phosphorus glowing sun; lights only keep

As the Winter hails snowflakes down to the ice encrusted ground below 

The sun retaliates and pierces the clouds its lonely only foe 


The door to the ground withers and decays 

The lead paint peels off as if a man has been flayed 

The tattered curtains in all shades of pink 

 Weary of their translucency, all colors begin to sink. 


The snowflakes fall like leaves and cover the tattered cloth 

The wintery flurry like an ocean breeze carrying sand from one place to another 

The ground covered in a soft blanket of white chocolate 

As the dawn arises the white chocolate melts and through the door;

spring blooms flowers: bright pink, orange and yellow

it give the curtains a new shade of color. 

 The curtains are alive. The door is reborn

And the sun melts the bitterness of winter away. 

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