Outside the window, snowfalls blanketing our world with a clean slate. Like a fresh sheet of crisp white paper just waiting for lines of a new world to be scribbled upon it.
I hear the scraping of the snowplow heading down the road, swallowing up the pure fresh snow only to spit up the ugly muck of what's underneath.
There is beauty in the aftermath though as I keep my eyes wide open until they begin to blur making it look like the edges of the crisp white paper are burnt.
I create a new world looking outside the window, a world of ice and fire battling to see who will be victorious.
The snow keeps falling but with every dusting there is the loud scrape of fire pushing the snow back into its boundaries, creating perfect battle lines.
Trenches of fire and hills of ice, what will become victorious? Darkness creeps along the edges of the battlefield as the sun sets and silence falls upon the soldiers.
With the morning comes a Victory, the slow scrape of fire ceasing for the night allows the slow spread of black ice to cover the trenches