The place – the tuberculosis ;
The blueberries – o witless human worl’ ;
There was a winter-soul,
Breathing upright in royal land's hurl.
A whole world – the best bet
The northern guest, in goofy gesture ;
A face? It has but none, or
Too worried to expose itself to nature.
The place – where I can't go
One took from there a tent for rent –
But saw nobody – no food, no nail;
Sheer an igloo – howling for tenant.
So outwards, the spade was stuck
The wind poured some more snows to ploy –
Like garland's bless – a brutal luck!
An off-spring was defeated in gruesome joy.
It wasn't a child – but not old yet;
Went to find carnish, to hear some noise,
To run in woodlands, in moonly abode,
To cross the non-perennial river's voice.
Whoever it was, history won't concern –
Until the species is gone into extinction.

© soumik299