fury2525's Journal

Winter is a cold lover to the land,

even though the land is ready to recieve.

Trees act as outstretched arms to embrace.

But Winter's breathe lashes out like a slap in the face.

The dark clouds form an angry furrow on his brow,

merging together to do battle.

The cold nature of winter angerily throws insults against land's warm nature.

Come Spring, the land is bruised, tired and cries rivers,

but is wiser.