Down the lane lined with pines, I walked
With my hands and ears tightly tucked.
My heavy-booted feet making a print,
Ensuring I do not end in a splint
The sun yellow, yet its heat buttered
By the cold breeze blowing undeterred.
The trees stripped of its leaves,
Flaunting its sturdy sleeves.
Tiny droplets of something white and cold
Fell from heavens onto my jacket’s fold.
Pouring over the paths its icy white gleam,
In my head, the snow played the GoT theme
The squirrels ran in a frenzy from fence to fence,
And into the tree holes with the scaly pine cones
Amidst the freezing cold,
The pines stood strong and bold.
The pines are an inspiration for survival
As they stay poise in front of their wintery rival