The winter cold, that nips and bites
stories that are soon to be told, around fire and hot chocolate in hand
the cold that is felt all throughout the land, which you can feel all the way down to your bones
setting up the daylight cones, of those who have slipped off the roads
when everyone carries lots and loads, where people carry home their sleds
and climb into their little beds, all cozy, happy, and, asleep
dreaming of spring and peeps, and all other sorts of cozy things.
YOU ARE READING
Seasons
PoetryI have always loved poetry and he way its so much like songs but I can't write song nor sing them either.
