Snowball Fight

Now, I seem to hate
Everything thrown at me.
Especially snow.

Maybe not the snow
Possibly or probably
It could just be you.

Handcrafted snowballs
Are just accomplices or,
Maybe rude insults.

When you hurl insults
Directly in my poor face
I begin to worry.

So please Gabby,
My youngest sibling to date,
Stop this snowball fight.

By the River Bank

When her fear escaped
She finally chose to trust nature's flow,
By floating gracefully
On top of the small river bed.

Now every worry is blurred
Simply by the beautiful ferns
And crested irises
Laying upon her dress.

Her long attire
Has begun to form thousands of wrinkles
That discards the several extended pleats.

The color's tint
Has even started to convert
More towards a dull lavender
Or a droopy lilac
But far from a vibrant purple.

She continues to sail
Along this small river bank
Brushing past smooth rocks;
Perfect for skipping.

But now she wonders
When she'll skip another rock.
This fun activity seems so far away
Almost gone
Forever and ever in the distance
While she floats
Forever and ever by the river bank.

When it's Dark, Light Begins to Buzz

Despite the pitch blackness
He opens his eyes larger
Assuming everything would become brighter
But due to this weakness
He feels for a different route

Touch
His hand now unprofessionally guides him
Towards a twig
Or possibly a branch
Slightly embedded
In a lifted gravel

Path.
What use would this bring?
Maybe a tool
Maybe a

Weapon
He slowly picks up
This fragile finding
To realize it smelt of coal
And felt similar to a strong

Sapling
As he straightens his posture
He begins to use another sense

Hearing
The loud blare of a train
Has caught his attention
And the gravel has now brought a

Prediction
With a quick leap backwards
He makes way for this merciless

Train
This upbringing was frightful
But much needed
And now the endless grass fields
Bear thousands
Probably millions
Of buzzing

Fireflies
These nocturnal critters
Glow so bright
Making the reflection in his eyes

Glisten
He leans on this new found relaxation
And realizes that
In a doubtful situation
There always seems to be hope
Just around the corner
Waiting for it’s turn to

Shine.