White perfect arctic crystals,
Blowing in on a boreal wind,
Whispering gently as it carries
Earth’s blanket to warm it
During the harsh winter months.
But the wind is gelid,
The blizzards terrifying.
The ground treacherous,
I hate winter.
Beautiful descrpitions...I really loved the last line it caught me off guard and made me laugh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The last line is great. It's the turn, like the volta. Only without the sonnet and it's actually amusing.