PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Eyes sparkling, silver as the stars at night,

Speak of sorrow in the cold twilight.

Slowly the form of a man can be seen emerging,

His form is blurry, in a constant state of changing.

Dressed in the purest shades of white and silver,

The features of his face, in the dark, seem to shimmer.

The son of fair maid and he who was a shape-shifter,

His parents named him for the cold, calling him Winter.

A single tear leaves a trail upon his face,

It twinkles and shines until it freezes in place.

His skin as pale as an alabaster shell,

It emits an icy aura, and cannot be dispelled.

He wanders through the cold and barren land,

Longing for the beauty he once knew first hand.

Every thing he sees covered in the frozen snow,

He gasps in surprise when he sees a solitary crow.

“Do not be afraid for I bring good news,” she cawed.

“It is in your power to create beauty before the snows thaw.”

With that said the crow flew away, into the night she sped,

Leaving Winter to ponder what had been said.

‘How can I turn this barren place to one of beauty?’ he thought.

He held out his hand and a single snowflake he caught.

One perfect flake, so small and so delicate, in the shape of a star,

He feels a sudden bout of inspiration and turns his gaze wide and far.

He shapes the snow within his hands, trying to be careful,

He smooths and shapes until an icicle forms, shining clear as a crystal.

He then hangs them upon the branches of the trees,

Covering everything in sight with the crystals of icy beauty.

After this work is done, he breathes upon the windows of each building,

Creating patterns of frosty stars that glow brightly, ever shining.

Soon his work is complete and he lets out a gentle sigh,

A feeling a peace enfolds him and his spirit flies high.

No longer is it just a barren place frozen by cold,

The world around him is once again a wonder to behold.

The dawn broke clear above the land, when again the crow appeared,

It softly fluttered down, taking on the form of one of the revered.

“I have long wished to see the time I rule turned to such splendor,

This grandeur you’ve created is one I could not capture.

You have done this for me, now I can grant your heart’s desire,

Anything you might wish, speak it aloud and it will transpire.”

Winter thought long and hard upon this decision,

Looking at the tranquility he had created with such precision.

“My wish is this oh great goddess,

That when this season comes again, and the trees are bare and leafless,

That I be remembered in the lands, as the maker of this creation.

Let me sleep an eternal sleep until each year the first snow has fallen.

Then when the world sleeps beneath a blanket of ice,

Let me awake, create this beauty every year, and to the land pay my price.”

As the goddess promised his wish was granted,

The time of cold, snow, and ice forever frosted,

And turned into a beauty so much brighter

By the ghostly spirit named Winter.