The moth from the beginning,
Would be presumably dried,
With the net being disguised,
As the blue sky.
Blue would always wonder why did the moth,
Knew no colors,
If it was its choice to leave the pigments.
To hide its endeavours.
The Snow child scribbled again in his journal,
To see what he could change,
If he could balance the summer and autumn,
At his own range.
The case of this gift from heaven's,
Would get weirder as he would write.
How can someone be so cold and pale,
At the same time be so bright.
It was time for him to gain,
To watch what could he experiment.
To see if he touched a thing,
Would it break or have a dent.
For he was called "Power" and he was called "Danger",
Why would they entitle him,
When he never let out his anger.
He lost his gem's in a span of years,
He was an open book but now he turned to an untouched encyclopedia,
Having much within it to spread, much to intrigue,
The ones willing to read.
He wrote lyrics,
To see if he would reach close to his destination,
The Snow ward king began,
At a place called Willward.
Gosh! I never thought writing a narrative poem is going to be so tough for me. Ps: Willward is Lou's school name in the fic. I put up Lou's story in short here and I would be adding Harry's intro soon. Soon means soon. I mean really fr. ✌Loads of love and Faanks for reading my words.
-XXX
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Snowflower: You are the reason.
FanfictionAdmist the peaceful white snowflakes, a peculiar boy finds solace. What happens when you are drawn towards the cool and your dainty legs love the sound of crust. Snowmans, clouded trees and decorated hallways. What more would a winter born want? The...
