White as infinity’s page,
Pages of a non-written future,
As crisp as a bauble’s shell,
Being trodden on by a foot,
Cold as the outside breeze on a winter’s day,
Freezing our noses red,
As delicate as a snowflake,
With its intricate design,
Powdery as white chalk,
Being crushed into dust,
Snow – as wintry as winter itself.