The Poppy’s Blizzard

In a hazy den swathed in clouds,
Revelers danced around white mounds.
Catching snowflakes on their tongues,
Forgetting they were not in the heavens, but the slums.

With clasped hands raised to the skies, they prayed for snow
For chilling breaths and a numbing blow,
Putting a hold on the vibrancy of life,
Muting colors and dulling the knife.

But when the blizzards finally came,
They inhaled snow to drown their shame.
Then, as they reverently raised their arms to embrace the cold
Their breath caught and the world was put on hold.

As the apathetic storm silently moved on,
Innocent wanderers stumbled upon
Frozen statues beneath dunes of snow
Still smiling with an ethereal glow.

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