A Winter Poem

A Winter Poem

By Amy Meck

In the winter, the world feels new.

The snow like a sparkly blanket, that has never been used.

A magical blanket, that warms me on the inside.

But like a perfectly made bed, I can't help falling into it, leaving my imprint.

Afterward, I look around and miss the bed that was neatly made.

I search for another bed to fall into, because although it's pretty and perfect, beds are meant to be slept in.

And blankets fold for a reason.