New England winter, where has she gone? How come she forgot the wedding dress of white and the shiver of the cold kisses that comes with chilly winds?
No, really winter, you can't still be in green, with grasses shining in rain, and weeds still daring to faces, now and again. Willows in confusion in January show their yellow versions, migrating birds too hesitant in flying to distant lands.
Let me send a mail to spring, to come in haste, for seems you will be gone without much cold, may I know what are the reasons?
New England winter I wonder if you be real and proper in the coming year or if I will be there to see your long, white attire? Hey, spring, wake up from sleep the trees are bare no snow, nor flowers nature waits for your your lips to smear colors every where.