Winter's DeathA Poem by GuardianJust a poem about the end of seasons and the cycle. It's my first time writing in Iambic PentameterWinter's Death
Winter's cold cloak cruelly smothers the world. His malignant wrath makes nature tremble. His malicious breath, slanting wind with snow. His vicious teeth, razor edges of ice.
He strikes with unrivaled accuracy. Rivers are still, encased with Winter's glass. Trees are bent, burdened with Winter's powder. Creatures are hidden, fearing Winter's touch.
His power is complete as nights grow long. He walks through snow with a smirk on his face. His grey eyes glint with satisfied cruelty. Little does he know, his reign is short-lived.
Winter's time is up, his death approaching. Good Spring's time has come, her birth approaching. The world now hopes for the cloak to be drawn. With excited joy, life waits for the thaw.
Spring's warm robe flaps in a summertime breeze. Her soft, gentle touch makes nature rejoice. Her nurturing hands fuel plant life's new growth. Her bare feet now tread and snow drifts retreat.
With Spring's new life comes Witner's timely death. On his deathbed of ice, his strenght now wanes. His last breaths rattle with finality. With a sigh Winter dies his thousandth death.
Spring's power is complete as days grow long. She walks through green meadows in peaceful bliss. Her kind eyes twinkle with radiant love. Little does she know, her time, too, is short.
For seasons cannot last eternally. Like the life they effect, they too must die. The world, the stage, where their battles are fought. As one season dies, another is born... © 2008 GuardianAuthor's Note
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Added on November 18, 2008Last Updated on November 21, 2008 |

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