Snowstorm

At 7am i shiver. Wrap myself tight in blankets, And curl up in bed. The sky is as dark as coal. Outside the world is magic. There is a sheen of white overlapping the darkness, Ice white. Ice cold. Everything enticing, With sugar on top. 9am i wake again. A pine tree is surrounded with paper, Ripped and torn. Children play at its feet, Laughing, with big warm smiles. The smell of cinnamon surrounds me, And i feel joy in the air. Softly in the distance, I imagine a lullaby, As i sit in the snowglobe of life.