It falls in clumps, cold as can be.
It's soft texture, and that cool white gleam.
People bundle up, try to avoid the stuff.
I walk out in the fields, because I can't get enough.
All to soon, it's time to go in.
I walk back in, my frown turning into a grin.
Rushing to the window, I look out below.
The white gloomy fields, illuminated with an eerie glow.
Some people find comfort in the soft fluffy sight.
Others like warmth, or the dead of the night.
I love the stuff, it's just like me.
Hated, loved, cold as can be.
YOU ARE READING
Poems by me
PoetryI'm going to start doing some poems and add them in to this because poems are more easy to write than books in my opinion. XD
