Don't Cry Snowman

Snow danced in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. As the Young Lord watched his eyes grew that tiny bit wider, open and filled with innocence when he saw that his home had become as a fresh new page awaiting his playful feet and paws but these damned snow flakes wont win. He lounged forth and right with his tiny jaws in order to catch them. Within moments his bat-like ears, too big for his own tiny crown, flickered announcing the sound of someone else. His senses were tickling and his parents always told him to watch his surroundings. Oops. He stoped in his activity with a last pounce forward and as soon as his paws met the soft snow he turned on his heels to gaze upon the welcoming gaze of a man. He had seen him before a couple of times but never had he the opportunity to exchange words, he assumed because the man was important. He was their Leader or something because he knew that Father worked for someone.

Snow rests upon the ground as if it were a feather cushion, soft and warm. It covered the rich, deep wood in perfect white. The snow was a gift-wrap only spring will open, revealing the engrained beauty that lives safely below, protected these long winter months. However, the young Lord received a gift of his own today. He learnt something new. What is that? his small regalia tilted in confusion as he pondered the words, Infantry Officer?

Mordecai