The Snow Falls Slowly To The Ground Poem by Mark Ramirez

The snow falls slowly to the ground,
White as doves in a crowd of ravens.
Buildings, by fire, being browned.
I struggle so horridly for a safe haven.

The snow covers my boots lightly,
Light as the feathers from a dove.
I run from fear itself nightly,
Trying to escape this city of broken love.

The snow paints over my rifle,
Cold as the touch of the hands,
The hands that made my breath final.
Now I follow my own commands.

The snow flies over my gear,
Sharp as the slugs from the shells.
Blood covers my goggles, vision unclear.
The sound of my gun sounds like Christmas bells.

The snow lays over my footsteps,
Crisp as the burnt bodies that lay.
I think about what to do next
As exhaustion makes my vision sway.

The snow floats and covers the debris,
Gentle, oh so gentle, to cover the past.
Covering all to the last leafless birch tree
While I stand staring endlessly into the vast.