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The snow on the grass was turned to glass,

as we watched it happen before our eyes.

The rain stopped,

frozen in our paths,

drops of ice stung our faces,

as we walked right through those blazes.

The music was stopped,

playing the same note over again,

but how did it happen,

and when?

It seemed as if we were the only ones moving,

everything went by so slowly.

We were in a spinning world,

but only,

nothing was moving.

Everything was alive,

just stopped;

but it was all glass it seemed.

The snow on the ground was as hard as pavement,

as we walked on through it all.

All we could do was keep walking in circles.

Why has it stopped,

I wanted to know.

What happened to all the snow?

How did it happen?

Wouldn’t you like to know?

(Archived Poetry froom 2003)