Carried Storm


Sitting here in winter wonderland,
wandering through the windy storm.
I hold the ball in my right hand,
contented and ever so warm.

Sifting through the endless snow
looking for that which I miss.
The potion that will help me grow,
these parallel lines, such bliss.

If I stay I will get buried
in this beautiful, soft, and white.
This song of love that I have carried,
strains my already blurred sight.

Roll it up and throw it all away;
watch the ball explode into powder.
Throw another if it's your way,
with each the sounds gets louder.

This is a game of throw and hit.
I dream of joining in the fun.
I have work to do, so here I'll sit
until this windy storm is done.

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