I found a world

I found a promise

buried in ice and snow

 

I found a story

I found an idea

how long were they out in the cold?

 

Hidden in the snow

grown in the ice

are they meant to ever be warm?

 

 

Creative Portal: Writing Prompt#5

What do you think or feel when you walk through freshly fallen snow? What kind of metaphors do these thoughts bring forth in you?