[Excuse any poor grammar. I wrote this when I was 12.]
I lie beneath the silent moonlit rays
Illuminating silver running bays.
Calming sense of vital essence show
The unrevaling comfort in the snow.
The crys of wolfs and owls' mournful crys
Bring white capped pines with grey and tinted skies.
Green sprouts, fresh pedals burried in the ice,
Feelings sprout emotion, do entice.
Lying in their midst, not one aware,
Hybernating, resting without care.
Whisping, wailing, make such graceful sounds,
Singing, sighing, rush through rocky grounds.
Frozen waters, still wiht movement's calm
Stopping news that has been past sent long.
See the willows weeping, sobbing low.
Begin my heart's renoted throbbing flow.
Trembling paths what curiosity follows,
True of rabbits, not of swaying swallows.
Lucious colors blend to radient stains,
Palpetate through still, frostbitten veins.
Vital passion rush the silent whisper
Making notions grow just slightly crisper.
Lulling whisps of snowflakes gently falling.
Slightly different notes are slyly calling.
Calming darkness covers coves of life.
Blanket bundles warm, away from strife.
Nests empty of love yet full of chills.
Winds blow by, so far down the cold spills.
Yield, the beat of my true heart is slowing.
Warmth and thought is through my body flowing.
Lean against the rising, living lumber.
Lay my body, heart and soul, to slumber.
