Glistening snow-white tips Polished, sanded, draped with the finest of tapestry silks. Blessed with splendor, splendid splits Crevasses, curves both shallow and steep deep slopes stretching from mountain peaks.
Lustrous caves lurking, smirking as black crows write their prose nose-deep in the blinding snow, with their ***** little paws. Puffin, stay wary of blizzards and storms deafening. Creaking floorboards of ice sheets slip from beneath its tiny red toes no edge to cling to, nor air to latch onto with its wings a red stain left at the bottom of the pit.
Blizzards' lay a new layer of fresh snow covering the deep scars of warmth carved into the mounds of ice splashed with red paint Stained for millennia to come Melancholy; the artist behind the painting.
Hollow breaks in serial layers of ice Seeping black, oozing onto the ocean floor Not floating, bloating, or staying, Drowning.
Inside, etched into the lining, a thousand silent words Melting with each new sunrise, in which ray's they bathe Wash from meaning drop. by.
She dances on the feeble ice Her moves so precise A leap for some spice It's something she feels through her bones As music and their blending tones The wind through her hair She has a spark, a flare Sliding on the ice without a care Humming to an unheard tune In her own beautiful cocoon The sky a deep maroon To any disturbance she is immune She twirls like a top Moving nonstop Her hands free in the air She moves without a care ~23/3/21
It was my dream when I was little to become a skater, I still love everything about it.