Winters coming, with cold and snow;
Oh joy, oh boy; let the old man blow.
Snow angels, snow men, snow balls;
flues, colds, and bone breaking falls.
Gray skies, snow plows, short days,
Oh joy, oh boy, winter’s snowy haze.
Wet boots, sloppy floors never ending
bundling up, against cold defending.
What fun, what utter shear perfection;
due to the season's white confection.
I can’t convince myself completely,
That winter fairies dance discretely;
in fields beneath the frozen snow.
If they do I beg them, pack up and go
to warmer climate to dance and sing
would fly much lighter in the Spring.
I have to say; I do so hate the cold.
Sarcasm aside truth must be told,
if I could pick my favorite season;
the other three ; with good reason.
They’re not frozen colorless white,
offering much more to eyes delight.
Old man winter come with ice cold breath
Indoors I’ll stay by hearth; till you have left!