Ice Age
A white frosty morning
With a highly humid atmosphere
Fresh and clean breeze
Cascades down the mountain
Dews relax on surfaces
Fog arrests the beauty
Of the high and low lands
Furs bow in uniqueness
Stuffed cloak re-assigned
My days are now short
And temperature very low.
I am losing myself
When do I get to feel warmth ?
Do daytime always come with heat ?
I waited in anticipation
With high stake expectations
For my wish to come to pass
And then the silent cold environment
Whispered to me
"Chill out, it's winter"
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