Red Room Where the Writers Are

Snow Thaws

White Snow thaws, to beauty frozen within

A snow thought tainted by inherited sin

Ice brushed aside, springs turn now to play

Color, life, rejoice in this brand new day

Inner passions awake, find their voice

Nature’s seasons give little choice

Humans though get to decide

The resting place their soul will reside

Trap yourself in a barren icy hell

Or a heaven of touch, taste, sight and smell