Old man winter has reared his head,
It's too cold to get out of bed.
Icicles are hanging from the eaves,
Tree's are all bare, they've lost their leaves.
Everyone's bundled from head to toe,
From north to south, we're covered with snow.
And now the weatherman has forecast rain,
But I guess we shouldn't complain.
While all of this bad weather is passing by,
We sit in our house all cozy and dry.
We can drink hot cocoa and listen to the rain,
As the drops beat against the window pane.
Knowing that tomorrow won't be very nice,
You guessed it, a mess of slush and ice.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryThis is a compilation of poetry written over the course of many decades. Poetry containing my thoughts, dreams, imaginations, and observations. Some may be whimsical, while others may take another avenue. Thank you for reading, G. H. M...
