Poem — Imprints in the snow

Imprints in the snow, as the storm whirls around me

Tracks I could never follow, leading off down a different path.
The frost, lashing, clawing, eating away, at my skin.
As I feel the frostbite begin to set in.
It was so easy for them, their path was so clear.
No boldiers or cliffsides, obscuring their route.
They had gear and a head start.
Well what did I have, besides hopes and dreams?
No gear, or help along the snow-covered track.
Just a whisper, and a pull, down a narrower path.
A clearing in the storm, somewhere to wait it out.
I reached the top, not long after that.
Despite their tools, their gear, and their help.
I soon found out, that they were all dead.