"Snow"

This is a second draft of a poem I did for my creative writing class. I am still iffy about it, but it is the only substantial thing I have written in weeks.

There is a blanket covering our cities.
It brings confusion rather than comfort.
The hustle and flow of the city stops dead in its tracks.
The streets are a shadow of their former selves.
No longer filled with the pattering of feet,
or the screech of tires.
The games of children,
or the blares of horns.
Everyone is tucked inside.
They are too afraid to be lost to the snow.

We stand outside,
Each unique snowflake brings its own individual hurt
as they whip across our faces.
Trying to push the snow away from our homes,
keeping the cold at bay.
Soon to turn into ice men ourselves.
Running to a blanket that is much more inviting.

We poured our souls out in our breath.
There is the residual warmth in the air
of life passing through our mouths and floating in the cold breeze.
Dancing and swaying until it freezes in its place and fades away.
Until the next deep breath comes along.

We struggle to keep our warmth from dissipating
shivering, huddling, bundling ourselves up in everything we own.
Rubbing our hands together
as if we were praying for warmer days.

All we see is white
and all we can feel is the bitter cold from the soft layers
falling from the sky.
We can almost taste the cold on our lips between the cracks in the skin
and hear the sound of our heat flooding out of our beings.
The snow is so powerful it is stealing life right out of us.