Winter Days

Winter Days

The cold quiet touch
frozen hand of the unforgiving wintry Goddess
who shines the sparkle of snow
straight into blinking children's misty eyes.

They who spend long hours
playing in the frozen landscape
that in a single night has quickly changed.
Hidden is yesterday's brown-green grass

Their runny noses drip into steamy hot chocolate
Mother distractedly preparing huge cauldron soups
while gossiping wintry tales with other housebound friends.
Father sprawled out; sounds of football games roar from a big TV.

Outside, high hills are etched with large bootprints
a land ablaze with the flash of pure white snow
yet all will soon disappear
transient as our lives, quick as the winds


Note: Besides the last line (too cliche and forced), I thought the images of this poem were decent enough.