Standing here, out in the cold fresh air,
With my scarf wrapped tightly around my neck,
And my fingers encased in a pair of woolly blue gloves,
Trying to prevent the crisp of the air biting at my body.
Standing here, I can see such a mysterious land,
Dusted in snow and laced with ice,
A world of such purity and wonder,
With something cold beneath every place I touch.
As I walk between the ice-coated branches,
I can see the sun dancing and jumping all over the snowy floor,
I can hear the frost crackling and crunching,
Beneath my feet that have piercing chills pulsing through my toes.
The frosty covered ice that is draped over the lake,
And the large inches of ice hanging from trees,
With the air so pale and white like it has been bleached with the cold,
A beautiful world of wonder and purity...
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
thanks for your praise xx
