Motherland (inspired by Chopin’s Concerto No. 1, second movement)

From a crisp, blue and gray sky,
Specks of white flitted and fluttered their ways down
On pines, maples, roofs, sidewalks, asphalt of death
On the last red-glass leaves among barren twigs,
On chilled pink cheeks and little lips that cried happiness
In a tongue always understood.

A chance that this white could kill,
If rolling on ice was much control,
Or freeze to death those without fire outside their hearts.
In the end all is frozen... asleep... quiet...

A greeting to new arrivals.
A goodbye to those flying beyond the white.
A mother and child’s dream of peace.
And the place we’ll always be.

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A/N: If you imagined Canada, good for you! :)