In the blanket they were permeant ever
frozen like the pearls of thought but ever
gracing towards the heavens stark reminders
of when juvenile buds were momentarily
flourishing then quenched to oblivion.

Silver birches' were cloaked in the winds of
pearl droplets, only there shadows were upon
the grains that courted on every squall of what
played beside their moments brushing on the rigidity.

They were reminisce of what had gained leverage on
this glare of white nothingness, but above the ocean
of pearl beads nothing grew but they were silent but
ever feverish in the momentum to grow forth.