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Powder
February 6, 2013
I stand in the middle of a white field . The grass buried in a shining shade of glimmering white. My feet are cold and I can see my breathe. A twinkling sound teases around my red ears and that pounding sound of my heart sends waves through the hazy sky. With my palm pointed out and up every snowflake seems to miss. But finally one falls into my cold palm , as it melts I ball a fist and force my glare toward the sky, with a heavy smile I chuckle at the restless clouds.
© Britney G., Green Bay, WI
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