Little pieces of clouds
Falling from the sky
Covering all I see In a
white blanket of snow.

As I see from the window
The valley turns white
Like a blank canvas,
The world a blank page.

All that exists Is this room,
The sound of fire Crackling
In the fireplace,
And me
Wrapped in you.

Nothing else exists,
Not today.



Photographer unknown  
Poetry © Copyright 2017, Opinionated Head