nicolas thomas (september 7th 1994 (still not dead but will be one day (hopefully soon) : D) / paris 16e arondissemnt)

the wind blows in the snow
like a sea but with its own flow
the sun is rising
the clouds are crying
not rain, not flakes of snow
more like leafs of snow
when it lands it stays like seaweed: straight
they dance with the wind like a first date
when your skis embrace
this dance, you feel like floating in space
nothing can pull you back down
like weed you have left the ground
you're flying way high in the sky
till one day... you die