“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.