My house was my prison
Small and hellish-hot
I yearned for my freedom
The storm went and bought

As I gazed outside
The trees danced and sparkled
The wind whispered gently

At this storm I now marveled

So I escaped into my wonderland

For not more than a moment

When I realized this storm
Was more of a torrent


Though light and pure
The snow burdened me

The wind, though it whispered
Tore into me

My hands felt no longer
Just hung from my arms
My eyes forced out tears
Though I cared for them not



Now I ran toward my prison
Inviting and warm
My wonderland vision

Was now something I scorned

The storm was my warden
And though I contest
It is it, not my prison
That puts me in distress


But spring will soon free me
Until then I wait
For I know I can’t stop
These types of attacks
And like all of life’s storms
This storm will too pass