Winter's fury takes its toll on nature,
freezing green leaves
in a emerald garden.
Frozen tears fall from the sky,
dancing onto the ground,
as it is sealed in an icy tomb.
Such beauty in chaos,
blankets of white swirl over the tomb,
covering it in pale loveliness.
Cars crash on the icy roads,
trees collapse under tremendous force,
driving them onto dwellings,
and electric lines.
Cries echo through the bitter cold,
of the one's who are shut out,
as their bodies freeze,
in demented allurement.
All them become an edition,
to the permafrost garden.
Souls become captivated in ice,
the sun reflects off the crystal,
creating a dazling sheen.
In the permafrost garden,
where porcelin seems inferior.