We pile them high
The slush taking shape
The sky made solid
In our hands.
Every one young or old
Likes to fabricate
The form
Armies would they be
If, like in cartoon,
They could attain conscious
Motion
But alas they are doomed
Like so many of us
To melt and evaporate
And return to whence they came
In the big melt
The sum's rays glinting
Fiery inferno
Causing gentle curving,
Maketh ice
Which forms puddles
Which give way
To earth.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
We pile them high
The slush taking shape
The sky made solid
In our hands.
Every one young or old
Likes to fabricate
The form
Armies would they be
If, like in cartoon,
They could attain conscious
Motion
But alas they are doomed
Like so many of us
To melt and evaporate
And return to whence they came
In the big melt
The sum's rays glinting
Fiery inferno
Causing gentle curving,
Maketh ice
Which forms puddles
Which give way
To earth.
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