Article

Poetry: Snow

The piercing cold snow

Touched my hands with a burning sensation.

The pearly, white snow slowly

Melted in the clutch of my hands,

Leaving the cold upon my palms.

I picked up another lump of snow,

Struggling to transform it into a ball.

Finally, I managed to

Shape it into a perfect ball…

To throw at my little brother.

Memories of a parade of flying snowballs

Oh, how I love snow!

By Lillian Wittek

Photo Credits: fabulouscrete.com

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