Alone I stand in the middle of a field
Covered in a blanket of fresh, white snow,
Some still sprinkling gently down from the cold grey sky.
My vision is distorted,
Blurred greatly by the cloud that quietly sits only feet from the ground.
How I got here, I wonder,
As I begin to trudge in any direction I can, struggling to find my way.
So long it seems I have been walking, getting no closer to civilization,
And the fog shows no signs of lifting.
With my head slightly spinning and my body so tired,
I collapse into a bed of snow
And wake up immediately in my warm, dark room, alone.
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