Beneath the sky of grey, Lies the fallen white snow. Upon a path thats winding, And up reflects the glow. In winters cold we are now in, Where the wind does surely blow, A cold and icey chill, Across the land we know. The ducks flee for warmer lands, As the ponds no longer flow. Instead turn to ice, Where fisherman no longer go. Fires burn bright, To warm our frozen toes. We grab the box of tissues, And wipe our running nose. Sipping from the cup, Thats filled with hot coco. At night we cover up. No skin is left to show, And when the morning comes, The birds song is but an echo. All we see is the frost, That has misted up the window. The streets no longer busy, With children who play and grow. The only people we see, Are the men that are made of snow. Although the cold is daunting, And the ice we wish would go. The summer will be back soon. For now a chrismas party is what we shall throw. Unlik Like ·
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 10:07:56 +0000
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