Imagery+Poem

The sun shines brightly through the limbs of the dead trees. The wind is blowing, a cold steady breeze. Marching on and on through a thick blanket of snow, With the brightness of the sun it seems to glow.

It takes a while, but we finally arrive, Here the trees seem to come alive. Ropes of vine hang from above. It's these that we can't wait to get hold of.

We grab ahold and start to run, Our feet lift from the ground, and up towards the sun. Swinging, laughing and having a blast. But the sun goes down just too fast