A prisoner of responsibility, I wish I could just run out into the snowy wonderland below and let myself be awed and inspired by the beauty of frosty nature herself.
The drifts are curvacious, the falling flakes--soft. To lie in the snow is like being enveloped by arms meant for holding you and only you. The freshest blanket, untouched, is as flawless as a perfect complexion. Brilliantly white, a seeming sparkle admist the sheen, and a pristine glistening inspires ideas of a mystically innocent purity. If the snowscape that falls is created by an effeminate nature in the image of herself, Old Man Winter sure knows how to pick 'em.
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