The brisk nip in the air,
as we trudge in the snow.
We feel an icy wind on our faces
as it pummels our bodies.
Someone else has done it.
We follow the footsteps,
a frozen trail in the snow.
We suffer illnesses and deaths.
We fight to survive.
Why does a flower bloom
during an early frost?
Hope for warmer days ahead.
We hope for better times.
Hope keeps us alive and warm.
WHERE THE WIND BLOWS
The trees of the forest shiver and shake,
their long limbs trembling for the next quake.
Their bodies blaze a glaring white
with tears frozen from their new plight.
The world has become hard and cold.
My trembling body feels old.
Surrounded on four sides by white,
the bright glare has blinded my sight.
White is the color of my nightgown
as I stand and shiver with a frown.
A shadow emerges from the trees.
I hope it is not him, pretty please.
My body moves forward against my will.
I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.
I dig my feet into the packed snow,
but I must go where the wind might blow.
THE DEAD GAME SERIES
The landscape is cold and bleak.
I’m beginning to feel weak.
Ice is melting in my shoes.
I’m getting the winter blues.
I can’t find my way from here.
I had thought the town was near.
I’ve been walking for days.
I’m in some kind of daze.
There’s a break in the rocks ahead.
I hope they don’t leave me for dead.
My friends have to come back to me.
Rocks and trees are all I can see.
My friends are in the park playing ball.
I didn’t have to be afraid at all.
I see men
In the cold
Coming closer to my home.
Snow swirls around them.
Feet crunch on ice.
Four of them.
Why are they here?
The window mists from my breath.
It fogs my view.
I must run.
I must hide.