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Obsession With Snow

The Unsigned Writer

Obsession With Snow

Poetry By, J. M. Lilin

I have this obsession with snow, for it is something so tranquil to narrate to.

When I realized how similar snow and I are were, how different we were not, I knew I had made an acquaintance.

Our considerations and contemplations grew into a relatable desire of an idea that descended in a chill.

With each pounding memory, it is like the icicles that branch the room in a magnificent canvas.

The chill that overtakes us can be filled with a negativity that overwhelms and shivers the spine of distrust.

While others, instead, let the exhilaration of a winter land become the anticipated interest in their mind.

We can shove the sleet away or take it into our pens as an ink to scribble down in a flurry.

With each snowflake that fall upon our nose, another abstraction blinks through our eyes.

We just have to remember to not brush those flakes away but to accept each blur as a part of us.

I have this obsession with snow, for it is something so easy to relate to in a stimulation of wonder.

When I realized how similar snow and I are were, how different we were not, I knew I had made a friend.

Writing was easy for the people that could for they stood on top of the ice, praying it wouldn’t crack.

They’d write word upon word until the ice would finally give in to shattering and the icy writer block would take them in.

Waiting was the only option until the next hurricane would come around the anxious corner of pine trees.

Snow flurries would fall until seeing with vision was left to our hearing and feeling.

Forbidding the writer’s block, brushing the writer’s block off the pavement left each person alike.

Uniting like icicles, ideas formed into words and the words transformed into action.

The clicking and clacking of the shoveling pens at work became defeating.

We are all broken writers with a heart to form and a form to build that can only transform into something written down.

With each flurry of scribbles, the snow builds up until we either realize who we are or start to feel insecure.

That’s how we know we’re all a part of the snow that builds up outside.

When I realized how similar snow and I are were, how different we were not, I knew I had made a friend.

I have this obsession with snow, for it is something so easy to relate to.


Thank you for reading this writing by J. M. Lilin on, The Unsigned Writer. If you’re enjoying this site, leave a like, and subscribe for more!

Also Check Out J. M. Lilin’s Photography At, The Crystalline Mirage.
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