The snow engulfed the city in a dance of melancholy ballerinas doused in white and effervescent symphonies of cold. The cold bit, yet it never bit you hard enough to bring warm, salty tears to your eyes. It was a necessary harm you found enticing. The city was mute, sleeping, caressing itself amidst this velvet curtain of ice that struck it with such rigid sensuality. You sang taciturnly to its melody and smiled. That is all one could do upon coming to see this image of divine fornication between Man and Nature.
No one spoke; no car clattered upon the once dry, crowded streets of the town; no bird chirped among the barren branches of the dispersed trees that pretended to delicately lace the décor; Snow dominated, it reigned the sky, the ground, the souls and loves of us simple, pure mortals that walked below its amour.
You walked through the park; your very own Eden of Cold, the trees kneeled before this queen of sterile, bright darkness, her world glittered at your disposition, it was just you and her engaged in a tango that stirred passion and irresponsible demands for more. Perhaps the world had ended that night, perhaps the snowflakes (her little soldiers with spades of innocent and hearts of pensive demise) had silenced all allowing this rendezvous of primordial charm to unfurl upon the world shamelessly.
Keep in mind it snowed, keep in mind the avalanche of ice stars beckoned you to dance and transcend your simple state of being routine had implemented deep within the fissures of your self. Bricks of snow, wonderlands that show themselves once in a lifetime, maybe never in our fraction of eternity…