Snow falls,
piles up until there is nothing but white.
A deep sea, almost inescapable,
now it’s a challenge to get out, and will only cause me strife.

The cold storm roars,
angrily at my dreary mind.
I wonder would it be so kind,
to keep one less flake from blocking my snow covered door.

Before the storm,
there was a series of winds.
If I would have done my work then,
this mess wouldn’t have been.

I slowly walk to the closet,
I stare at the dreaded shovel.
I have to catch up on my work,
before I get in deeper trouble.

As I shovel away the work I’ve put off,
I feel the dark sky mocking me as it turns bright,
I try to surmount the obstacle I created,
before I should have done it right.