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poem-wintergraceful chaos arises as millions of thousands forget they're supposed to turn into rain into substance but rather are too excited to ride with the racing wind instead crystallize slowly as they descend, tumble, fall into a dancepoem-winter
a dance
a gentle waltz against the dark background we call 'night' but they call 'stage' a soft ballet brilliantly white so so bright they could be mistaken for little
pieces
of clouds surprising us with a visit to our humble home
the cold rush yo
by ~Outsidelimits
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- Current Residence: The second nearest star
- Interests: Plotting, whether it be stories or revenge, I'm not too picky. ;)
- Tools of the Trade: My fingers, a keyboard and my imagination.
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