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.
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