Kayley Watkins, Grade 6
I sit on the mountain cold and shaking,
I take a breath but it turns to stone.
The air turns into a thick patch of fog it floats,
I shake back and forward in the sinking snow,
The texture cold, sinking, hard, frosty.
I look around nothing to be seen… anywhere,
I pick up the snow and grasp it in my hands,
I turn slowly and painfully into stone,
The light is appearing darker every second.
I fall to the side in pain and agony,
This is not my body anymore,
I am floating away it feels like Im being buried alive,
I hear loud noises like rain and thunder,
I want to scream but I cannot,
The rain goes I can see a light I hear peaceful sounds,
What is this place where am I who am I?