Fall down from the sky,
Twisting,
Turning.
I feel like I've killed you,
You're melted,
Burning.
Your tiny little arms,
Like wings,
Delicate.
Land on my lashes,
I see the details,
Intricate.
Your multiplied,
You land,
You go.
I look to the sky,
Your cold,
Your snow.
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The snowflakes fall White whispers Like the softest kisses Melt as they land With grace and beauty Frozen ballerinas that ...
Today has vowed a sky of cloud; a frivolous shroud: no daylight, or joy, or beauty allowed. Much of the day has wasted away in such a way, the birds, the people, have nothing to say.
The scene from my window. Is covered in white. The streets are aglow. Such a wonderful sight. Still sprinkles are floating. And falling to ground. So beautifully coating. The greens and the browns.
(Inspired by the Kate Bush track '50 Words for Snow', from the album of the same name.) Wilful winter winds will blow Here's 50 phrases for the snow.
Don't hate my hating. It's pretty and it's white, So fluffy it might seem, The colour of untainted white, Like clouds or like a dream. Reality hits hard though.
When Winter wind wistles and blows Bending trees, snapping boughs, like matchsticks torn asunder When Winter wind wistles and blows Bending trees, snapping boughs, like matchsticks torn...
Ice outside my window. Silent grip of iron. Creaking, cracking, groaning. An ancient, age old song. Swirls and whirls and ferns of frost. Sparkle in the moonlight. Every single drip and drop.
I always like rain best. The slow steady drizzle as it's falling from above. How it seeps through your clothes and chills you to the bone.
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