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A poem about being swept away into a mystic winter world. |
The dry snow crunched beneath their feet, They longed for an epic journey, Something away from normality, A place distant, Away from reality, They walked through a mystic winter land, The snow already blindingly white, Suddenly the flakes came down in outpouring torrents, Making their destination unclear, They were being swallowed alive by the intense white, A dark form stood out from the white world, Dark as night, A form unnoticed before, Maybe there all along? On many occasions we are blinded by ignorance, Looking for a place to hide, It hardly felt wrong, They reached that dark house, At the peak of that snowy place, The steps creaked, Walking into this place of ostensible refuge, Out of that ravaging snowy space, Up to the door, Adorned with red and gold, And intricate in design, The door was pushed to, “Should we go in?” The biting cold motivated the answer, They knew what they needed to do, Out of the cold, And into the room, They slumped onto the floor, Weary of their icy battle, Footsteps began to approach, In rapid succession, A man entered the room, In that same red and gold, In an outrage, Demanding that they must leave, “Please let us stay,” they did plead, “We are weary and cold, We are frozen so thorough, We can’t even bleed.” But in several cold words, Cold like the snow, He turned away, And they were back out in that cold white day, Then it was reality’s time to intervene, They came to find, It was all a snow-covered dream. |