Snow Takes
by Morning Star

Dark lane, move slow—
scared to feel,
scared to let go.

Another sound,
another voice,
rips apart the crimson rose.

Total fear. No control.
Pulled backward
by a hollow creek—
a cave of cold,
of darkened feet.

Tied within a twisted wind,
a heavy presence starts to speak.
Screaming silence claws the skin,
frozen stillness slices thin.

The ice that grips your stolen core—
the fear of never finding shore.

But then...
a blanket, full of color,
wraps you in its secret cover.
Holds you tight beside a flame—
the silence now no longer pain.

No one here.
No need to run.
Safe to watch the fire’s glow come.

Snow takes the wind,
and with it, the sting.
Snow takes the crimson rose—
the thorn,
the twisted thing.

And in the hush
of all that’s gone,
you wake.

Years away from there.
You wake—
and life is new,
and here.


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