My winter poem

The Warmth of Snow

She walked through the snowflakes, floating it seemed,
Feeling less human, more something she’d dreamed.
The primary touch of her boot-laden feet,
Left marks, all her own, in the ivory street.

The day yet created, she savoured the dawn,
Longed for extensions of time to the morn.
Life was so peaceful, just her and the white,
So fresh was the hour, so recent the night.

Her heart, in its casing of ice, throbbed within,
The worn woollen jacket a little too thin.
She’d leapt from her bed, spurred from frustrations great,
And thought of her comfort a little too late.

Looking instead for the comfort of earth,
Finding, in truth, the real weight of its worth.
For troubled a mind its purpose is clear,
To filter the darkness, release it of fear.

Such purpose hung heavy, surrounded her state
It clung to the air, then diluted her fate.
Her eyes draw to sunrise, in chorus with heart,
Her safety in darkness set soon to depart.

Now warmed by the snow, and lip without quiver,
She looked to what this new day could deliver.
Her worries and fears now supported by hope,
Renewed with a vigour, the knowledge to cope.

Her heart like the snow, which at first seemed so cold,
Now begged to be warmed by her stories untold.
And as the sun rose it tossed magic aside,
For this, this was real, no more reason to hide.

The rays hit the snowflakes, they answered forthwith,
No longer a dream, this vision no myth.
As sly as the sun, a smile crept to her face,
Now she knew why she had chosen this place.