The white flakes fall gently, whipping across the trees
But when they touch skin, it feels like they freeze.
However, how it piles, glitters, and spins across the sky
can only be described as an alluring beauty.
It whips and ravages through the wind as a savage yell,
But the flakes break away as fragile as eggshells.
To describe the white mist that comes every winter
is quite strenuous, as it is so heavenly divine
and so fine that it reflects nature to a captivating shine.
YOU ARE READING
The Hard Truth
PoetryThis is a collection of "poems" that I have started writing about the situations or experiences that happen in my life. This collection might be personal to me, however, it radiates over such a larger and broader audience.
