Mist, Fog all around

Swirls of white; with slight hints of the sky,

Warm air gets put in a blast freezer,

Little tiny icicles hanging; slowly falling,

Waiting for the sun to melt them,

Five feet away is all you can see;

When the fog and mist come to caress you in cold, full; warmth.

After a while of something that's called time,

The air gets warmer; The cold-hearted ice melts,

A little light shines through in the corner,

The bright yellow ball; that is the sun,

burns bright for the universe,

as our view widens; the world awakes,

We're back again, to the good old days.