Winter

Another simple descriptive poem about the season Winter.

It's nighttime, and the sky is a dark blue-black, dotted with fluffy clouds. Everything is quiet, there's no noise at all as the soft white snow gently falls around you, landing in your hair and on your eyelashes. Every time you breathe, your breath turns to fog in the air, dissolving into mist as is disappears on the cold breeze. It stings your cheeks, but you become aware of how warm you are compared to your surroundings. The snow piles up and covers the land in a gentle, white sheet.

Winter is here.

Author's Note

Winter is actually my least favorite season.