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StephankPoems
. Whining, it happens when blizzards come calling Grabbing a jacket I walk down the stairs Beside the window where winter is lurking Waiting about as if nobody cares Coating the trees with a cottony fabric Not quite as warm as the heater detects Here in the handbook of problems and answers Only for masters to come and inspect Grabbing a scarf from a shelf in the corner Pouring a cup just to dance in its steam Maybe some sugar so life can be sweeter And just a dash of your half and half cream Kicking the mud from the boots made of rubber Purchased on sale at a shop on the beach Next to the flip flops and lotion dispenser Low to the ground and so easy to reach Those were the days when the sun wasn’t hidden Blanketed white like a sheet on a rope Held up by clothespins of wooden construction Seeking a breeze with the fresh scent of soap Shoveling sidewalks and not chasing seashells Feeling the cold as it bites through your skin Running a faucet to thaw every finger When will it be time for all this to end I guess I will go out and trudge through the weather Deal with the snowflakes, the slush and the sleet Before too long I’ll be sweating the summer Probably whining about all the heat
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Probably Whining
. Whining, it happens when blizzards come calling Grabbing a jacket I walk down the stairs Beside the window where winter is lurking Waiting about as if nobody cares Coating the trees with a cottony fabric Not quite as warm as the heater detects Here in the handbook of problems and answers Only for masters to come and inspect Grabbing a scarf from a shelf in the corner Pouring a cup just to dance in its steam Maybe some sugar so life can be sweeter And just a dash of your half and half cream Kicking the mud from the boots made of rubber Purchased on sale at a shop on the beach Next to the flip flops and lotion dispenser Low to the ground and so easy to reach Those were the days when the sun wasn’t hidden Blanketed white like a sheet on a rope Held up by clothespins of wooden construction Seeking a breeze with the fresh scent of soap Shoveling sidewalks and not chasing seashells Feeling the cold as it bites through your skin Running a faucet to thaw every finger When will it be time for all this to end I guess I will go out and trudge through the weather Deal with the snowflakes, the slush and the sleet Before too long I’ll be sweating the summer Probably whining about all the heat
Stephank
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Stephank
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
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