There is odd comfort in our nature’s regression,
Sensing the veil of winter about to rush in,
We abandon all our duties, get back to bed,
Sharing warmth between us, playfully playing dead.
But the genius that animates our bodies such,
Turns chill to so much heat that it burns to the touch,
So let us laugh while we can, for a moment more,
Before we return to the lonely world of snow.
Prompt: “Have you considered writing something slightly cheerier?” by T-
Prompt: “… Like the warm contrast of life and snow?” by K-.
Discarded Recollections 