Cornered In a Colorless World...

the steam from my winded breath hits the cool air and lingers among lifeless trees left black and bare like a group of hunters, winter has crept through the lands the snowy crystals cover me like the dry desert sands these winter flakes land on the earth and seem to perfectly hit like jigsaw pieces that know right where to fit I sit still trying to become one with the wasteland of white as autumn has once again forfeited its seasonal fight a tree falls in the woods and people wonder does it make a sound? but I can tell you that dying trees have final words as they hit the ground the colorless kaleidoscope I'm looking through takes over the view of my soul as winter has now come down like a forgotten ghost from the north pole