Sunday Night Poetry (Week 38)

(Ahhh noo I’m sorry I missed, like, three weeks of this. I remember just as I’m doing something, and when I get the time, I forget, and afterwards I remember too late. Please accept this random poem as an apology.)

Snow glistens on the hill

Ice crowds the windowsill

Small dens that snow will fill

House those who are waiting ’til

The warmth of springtime rolls around

No more huddling underground

No more cold devoid of sound

Much less suffering to be found

Yet ice still sparkles night and day

In the sun’s bright warm ray

The children run out to play

Winter is here to stay


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