Snowstorm

In the dead of night,

the flakes fell furtively

concealing the last of color.

Behind a grey shroud,

the sunrise reflects

a lack of color too bright.

It glistens through the windows.

Its audience watching

in either fright or delight.

They observe with shielding eyes.

Their skin blanched

with a touch of blush.

Their shoulders frozen in a shrug

as they’re buried with the color

that is only out of sight.