Winter Snow
A fine wooden chair,
The colour of Hazel Brown,
Sat in a luxurious room,
Sitting infront of a window,
A huge glass paned window,
That shone down upon the room,
Letting a sweet light flow through,
And into.
Sitting on the chair was a girl,
A girl of unknown age,
She had silver-blue eyes,
And Straight, white hair,
It hit her shoulders,
And flowed down her chest like a river,
She wore a plain grey gown,
That was decorated with flowing red, black and white roses,
Covering her hands were grey lace gloves,
Her feet were comforted with high, grey boots,
Caressing in her delicate hands,
Lied a leather-bound book.
She held it just right,
Just the right grip,
Her eyes gazed upon it and out of the window,
The huge window,
Outside snow was falling,
Falling like fallen angels,
They were ever so delicate as they dropped,
So peaceful,
The girl wondered to herself,
"Could life be ever so simply beautiful as winter snow?",
She new the answer to this question,
Life could never be beautiful for her,
Never simple,.
The girl went out into the yard,
The yard that was caressed with snow,
And she would fall upon the snow covered grass,
But wispered before she would fall,
"life cannot be beautiful or simple..",
"That is why I shall fall..",
"Fall like winter snow",
Opening the book,
The book she held so right,
And took out an object,
A knife,
She shuddered,
Looked back through the window into the room,
Held the knife,
And striked a blow,
A blow to her heart,
A blood filled river poured out,
Out of the wound,
Down the perfect grey gown,
That was now ruined,
With her tender blood.
Blood fell onto the white snow,
Perfection of white,
Was now a perfection of red,
With a last gasp of relief,
And a tear of happiness,
The girl fell,
Fell into her temptation,
Of winter snow.
I hope everyone enjoyed my poem, it was a poem that told a story. This is very unrelivant to myself.. meaning i would never do anything like this. And I am not sad.. I just have a thing of making poems with emotion that i do not have.
Thank - you. Mystic<3