Next in the poem series I'm writing...
Frigid Death
As I walk home,
From tasks unwanted,
The wind begins its blowing,
As monstrous clouds
Begin their snowing.
I hurry on,
Pushing though wet mounds
Of freezing white.
Light begins to dim,
And swirling particles
Blur my vision.
I am lost,
Wandering in a world
Of blank cold.
Seeping into my body,
The soft, cool fingers
Start me shivering.
I stumble on and on,
Slowing every second,
Until finally, I cannot go on.
A warmth crawls up my body,
And eventually-Freedom.
