Page 1, For Angellynn and Unorthodox\'s contest. I chose Nature and picture 3.
I have another poem on booksie called \'Who is Autumn?\'. I hope to do, \'Who is spring?\' and \'Who is summer?\' too at some point;)
Bitter cold clings to the flesh,
Frozen flakes fall to the blanketed ground,
Barren trees reach down to those below,
A single owl hoots in the pale moonlight.
Amongst the scene of snow,
She wanders aimlessly for eternity,
Seemingly oblivious to the crunch underfoot,
Wearing nothing more than an evening dress.
Her lips are blue yet she does not notice,
Shivering from exposure to chilled air does little,
The time spent walking does not slow her pace,
No one can see her but she does not mind.
For of all her sisters,
She is the one who takes care of her secret,
She is the one who hides from others,
The one who is apparently cold and blocked off.
Her temperament could be improved,
For she often takes her anger out on others,
But who can blame her,
When all she is accustomed to is cruel laughter?
People do not realise,
Winter has given the world the best gift of all,
Summer’s scorching heat can never compare,
To Winter’s magical wonderland.
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