By Kellie-Ann Morris
She was a tree, frozen in time
with a spine that once stood tall like bark.
But she succumbed under harsh winds,
bending in defeat,
bowing to the enemy,
hunched and ready to snap.
She was a bear, with a coat too light for the cold.
So she hid away
at the first sign of snowflakes
in a nice cold cave
with only echoes to keep her company.
The cavern walls protected her from the world,
but kept her from exploring it.
She was a flower,
wilted by the weight of snow.
Her petals curled up, vibrant shades crumbling
into colors as dark as the sky without sun.
She was fragile, terrified, vulnerable.
She was stuck in an eternal winter
that was causing her decay.
The harmonious bird song every day
was her wake up call
to wage a war on the cold.
Tweets that delivered directions
to a better place,
gave birth to new beginnings.
So she migrated towards a land
where she could control the clouds,
and fall in love with the way the sun kisses her cheek
and vowed to never return to frost.
She melted the ice from her shoulders
with steadfast determination.
She gained the strength to be unwavering against all forces,
learned how to stretch out her branches
without worrying about how much room she took up.
Now she is spring.
Kellie-Ann Morris is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram