Title: Battle of the seasons
by Frances from Wales | in writing, poetry
There is nothing on earth
Only cold
And the bitter wind sweeps through
The deserted icy landscape.
The trees bowed over
From the weight of the
Fierce ice that captivates their branches,
So the once proud oak
Is now a weeping willow,
Bowing to the defeat of Frost
Ambushed.
Icebound.
But the majestic Sun rises,
and strips the brittle Frost of its victory.
The seasons move on,
One after another.
The Frost's efforts,
However dominant,
Were in vain.
The Sun's also.
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