Wintery Wisdom

Since the beginning of time you’ve existed like a curse. For some your existence forever their irritating scourge. Your sleekness, glossy and tranquil as you lay flat. Molding yourself to everything’s very shape and being. Silently you lay there waiting on anything’s fleeting touch. With no sounds or movement waiting for the glide over. Knowing that the slightest twitch can cause an urgency. Nature your creator coldness deep in your very center. No action ever taken some times instantly you wither away.