WINTERTIME

WINTERTIME

Winter always seems to be the poor relation

Unlike Spring, embraced as a cute newborn

Or summer, a smiling and sunny adolescent

Especially autumn, in its respected maturity

A comforting hand on end of year security

Yet winter is cold as a pale moon’s crescent

Looking silently down on us, and all forlorn

Is there no room left for a new imagination

Yet winter could even be the ice in a drink

To make every snowman, fluffy white snow

Kid’s rosy cheeks, as they slide down slopes

Perhaps there’s a message in the chill breeze

In snowflakes’ beauty or when icicles freeze

But now, the other seasons know the ropes

All key elements of the regular yearly flow

They are but a prelude, with time to think