Lit terms have officially consumed my entire life. Cue the slo-mo and dramatic, obviously faked pyrotechnics!
And now, a memory in free verse (vers libre):
I live in a desert
There is no snow
Creativity was all we had left
No white Christmas for our lonely souls
Dampness without the beauty
Mud, in plain speech
Not as satisfying
But who can complain?
Snowmen or mudmen
Hey, at least I came out of my room
