Under The Snow
There is something breathing under that blanket of snow.Something warm and gentle a lost and lonely soul. It lies in state all winter and emerges in the spring. Scratching rom it's wintery grave with a lucid primal scream. It comes up quick and light though very much enraged. It's tired of being stepped on tired of the masquerade. It's only the child within you the one begging to be free. It's all of us every day though no one ever sees.