Looking through my frosted glazing.
A winters Sunday morn.
The piercing coldness, so bitter.
A wind like razor blades.
And my somber music plays.
The slivering venetian blinds, so bland.
Hiding little of the external Arctic chill.
A frozen sparrow lays on the sill,
Ready to fall, on dirt, so icy.
A meagre frigid offering,
To the polar Snowlord.
And I’m like a blizzard’s statue,
Shivering to the core.
Riveted by my eternal score,
Leonard’s, Avalanche and more.
SlasherMonster Magazine 
Well done, Ivor. Chilled me to the bone.
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Thanks, but its still chilly here…!!
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Frosty and brrrrilliant. Brrrr!! I need a blanket… me bone is frigid and stiff. (PR)
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Haha, I need one of Heff’s snow bunnies !!
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Thanks for sharing your poem, Ivor! We need to start a fire…someone may get frostbite.
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Too late, my frostbite’s already started !!
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I can’t feel my fingers…I’m typing this sentence with my toes…
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Clever work… not so f–king cold today….
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At first i thought twas DD’s work and was bout to say..”WOW….i didnt you can be so gentle and in your words; as obvious as it seemed i am used to your monster side lol”….but well..well….its Ivor…well done guys..🤔🤔🤔
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Surprise! 🎉🎊🎈🎏🎁
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**know**
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Nuh-ice
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Put on your coat! It’s chilly.
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Oh, no, the White Walkers are coming. Where’s Jon Snow?
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