Frost

A small donation will help to keep my poetry FREE!

 
366@40 Day 220 111211

Lungs filled with cold air,
Grass crunches under your feet,
It all has white blanket,
From concrete to park seat.

You see your warm breath,
A lack of any heat,
Speckle of white all over,
The prints from your feet.

The window is iced over,
Your nose is so cold,
Better wrap up real warm,
Your mum would have told.

The ground is so hard,
Tales of jack frost told,
The season changed so quick
Winter now has its hold!


 
 
Copyright 1990 - 2013 Craig Wadner