(I wrote this poem when we had that big snowstorm. I wrote it in my head, standing watching the snow through the window. Didn't get a chance to post it 'till now, so here it is.)
My entire world is wrapped
In a blanket of snowy white.
Nose pressed to the frosty glass,
I am mesmerised by the sight.
Falling flakes illuminated,
By the soft glow of the moon,
and I am amazed all over again,
at the perfection in my cocoon.
The contrast is apparent
With a quick glimpse to my right
A slushy mess covers the road,
As the cars drive through the night.
But back inside my little world,
Perfection is all that you see,
A gorgeous blanket of clean white snow-
It's what's surrounding me.
Suddenly the stillness is shattered,
As a visitor breaks the spell,
Muddy footprints in place of perfection,
In which I wanted to dwell.
My world was just so clean and neat-
Now look what happened to it!
The shiny blanket of fresh snow,
Ruined when a stranger walked through it.
But looking at those dirty footprints,
That savagely wrecked my world,
I start to marvel at the simple truth,
That is now being unfurled.
A person's world is their cocoon,
To keep it fresh and new.
And they have to be wary of strangers,
That might come traipsing through.
Because once the footprints are there,
The damage can't be undone.
The muddy tracks still remain,
When the night makes way for sun.