The Place of Dreams
Ice cold, freezing and lifeless snow flows down and lands slowly on top of me.
Slowly, icicles form below me. My rugged edges collect pure pieces of white snow, my top gives me my strength.
Many people try top: climb; ski; and conquer me, they never succeed.
I am a toy to them.
Each year they try again but each year they never triumph.
“Stupendous-the land is brilliant also stupendous”, I hear them say before they go.
The air is humid the higher I go, I don’t need air to live.
Icicles hang dripping from my body.
The sky spouts snow like a waterfall.
I’m the target.
Everyday snow lands on me, every day I get angrier.
I am the land of snow. Fear me.
By Eric Owusu-Afari