Blanketed by sheets of fluff
Cold and plain these lands become.
Undisturbed and free of footfall,
The endless blizzard expands.
Fields are all a desolate white
Purest, however, under starry moonlight.
Beautiful, yet unforgiving
These sands bring out soulful fright.
Chilling winds caress these plains,
Hugging them in tight embrace.
They add onto the lands
Engulfing the airs in white.
These sands can be so vilely cold,
Like a whitened void they turn,
And end all life in its wake.
To be admired from afar.
To never be touched or beloved.
Misfortune clings to her name,
Cold and terrifying and sad,
So harshly misjudged,
Yet beautiful beyond words.
These lands breathe.