Too cold, it is in here!
tinder lips sigh the crystal snow
parting to make a water deal.
No sound of screeching seagulls,
roaring lion or howling wolves
only the shrieking misty wind.
Standing still, with hollow blue eyes
high on the slope, radiating terror
betrayal of trust close to his chest.
With a warming touch, he moves the dead
with a swing of his arm, the dragon's dead
he leads them all, the army of the dead.
He swores no alliegance, nor betrays,
nor he discriminates between snow, targaryen and stark,
he is the Night King, the harbinger of death.
Targaryens, starks, karstarks, lannisters,
greyjoys, boltons, mormonts, freefolks
he comes for them all, to see them fall.
Link: https://allpoetry.com/poem/14020722-The-White-Walker-by-Valavan