First Task

Snowflakes quiver on the 

edge of something new,

knew there would be no return afterwards. 

The snow collected and stuck together 

-birds of a feather- 

the land grew cold, 

from that single forlorn winter. 

Summer was nevermore, no longer known. Not ever again. 

six pointed cold kiss my eyelashes in this eternal winter, no warmth to be found. 

not even as i cup my hands against the sun and hope for better days. 

but you have struck me, boreas. 

have blown icy cold down my spine, have frozen me solid. 

Even love cannot unthaw what you made so, and even though you are beautiful, you are just as -

cold. 

i stuggle against the wind, heave the lion around shivering shoulders, with his impenetrable fur, 

and shift. 

zeus may have made us two parts of a whole, 

but i would rather have a hole in me, 

than brave another one of your harsh winters. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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