The snow is
gently coming down
I watch it
through the steamed up glass
It forms a
blanket on the ground
Hiding the
ashes and blood
As the
chilly day turns to night
And the
snowfall begins to slow
I see shapes
in the darkness
And hear a gendarme
shouting "Go"
The moon
gives off it's yellow light
And the
frozen ground begins to glow
By dawn the
storm has since moved on
And
transformed the world I know
The bloody
and barren landscape is now gone
Buried under
a blanket of snow
Between the
frozen lake and amid the trees
White is all
I can see
The Bilge Master and Antonio Staniszewski
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