Alone in the soft white field I sit
A candle beside me brightly lit
A crisp cool breeze does start to blow
And ends my candle's soft warm glow

Under the moon I start to think,
As above my head the stars do wink,
"Are we really in the end so small?
Or in Heaven will we all stand tall?"

Of course, perhaps we'll never know
Until we're buried beneath the snow.


Poem I wrote for English. I chickened out on reading it aloud though and wrote a completely different one. I love the way it flows and everything, but it seems so pretentious... sigh.