Snowstorm

Thoughts can be a flurry within your mind.

             A snowstorm of memories.

They can pile up,

lock you within your self made cabin.

Each memory is like a snowflake.

An individual,

unique,

unlike any others.

You must grab those frozen memories,

craft them into what you need.

It may be a fort or just a tall snowbank.

Whatever your decide, it will be you.

Completely and utterly you.

When it melts, mixes with the Earth,

it will make a sort of personal ink.

Ink that can shape the world.

Autumn Comes

Autumn comes with the chilled air.

Night follows the rising moon.

Forests of oak and birch are nearly bare.

A far off call of lonely loon.

Night follows the rising moon.

Miles from the city or cars.

A far off call of lonely loon.

Fireflies hide among the stars.

Miles from the city or cars.

The rush of movement, never still.

Fireflies hid among the stars.

I gaze out from above my windowsill.

The rush of movement, never still.

Forests of oak and birch are nearly bare.

I gaze out from above my windowsill.

Autumn comes with the chilled air.