Snow

My dad always told me never to mess with mother nature, which made me think of writing this poem.

Alright, it's been a year since i've posted anything, and now I'm back!

Out in this white barren wasteland,

Death stalks through the night.

Waiting for a foolish to soul,

To traverse his domain.

He waits patiently, because they always come,

And they always fail.

Lo, and behold!

A bright soul, one full of arrogance crosses the threshold.

Cloaked in many layers of fur and skin,

This man treks across the land of white.

But, as many men before him,

And many men after,

He will fail.

Death watches silently,

A smile across his skeletal face.

He waits, and then feels the shift.

The man has fallen, and his soul is cold.

His many layers of fur and skin could not save him.

Death slowly walks up to his body and smiles.

“You cannot win against mother nature. She cannot be defeated.

Your foolish arrogance, thinking that you could beat her,

Has made you meet your end.”

Death laughs as he raises his blade, and strikes it down.

In this cold barren wasteland,

Death walks through the night, guiding poor souls to their next home.