Out that window, I watch them so pretty
Little flakes of snow, so flossy and naughty,
Woolen socks and nasty boots I adorn,
Gone with the wind were those thoughts forlorn.
I spring to the streets with a song so mush
But merry tiny blobs, I see, masquerades in slush
I slip and I grip that twig I thought was a brick,
Fallen and bruised….. Am I the nature’s trick?
I stand upright though pickled and grime,
The tot down the lane finds mirth in mime,
Admonition from the guardian echoes so shrill,
My song is lost amidst the needles of chill.
It was a song, a lyric of dreams,
That penned beside those lovely streams,
Day and night had I buried as one,
Those flakes I thought, would deliver me from the run.
As much as I flaunt a soul so callous,
Daunting is the current that unfolds so brumous,
A crowded desert is no place to find that one twin,
A domicile less overt is no trail to trace in the din.
I flounder in that slush with that song in the core,
Straining to hear the clucks of hooves and more,
Those dreams are all I have with me willed,
A hit or I miss; the lyrics are regardless spilled…