Cold to the touch winters caster sugar sweet
it covers my lawn in a pure driven sheet
they are puffy white crystals of utter delight
with the opportunities of some great snowball fights
so we go out when mother gives us the OK
wrapped up warm for the coldest of days
and then we'd play with glee and knowing
that soon our poor hands would be red and glowing
that's when we would be called in for our tea
listening to winter tales on our mothers knee.

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris