Frozen time spirals,
Yearning touches now glazed,
Icicles beautiful but also dangerous
I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional
While the fishes hang from my window
like little ice-ickles in spring.
So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing.
Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein
have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin.
So the muse of ages goes round and around and around
for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills
where none exist.
A soft, and magical pearlescent blanket
Covered the alluring streets
Lightly and gently, to the touch
Falling slightly, beyond adorable tiny feet
With sparkling snowflakes
Streaming into delicate strokes, with ease
And frosty icicles, decorated the land
On this snowy, winter freeze
In laughter, tots place their teensy fingers
Upon their crimson precious face
Looking up in happiness, and reaching out
Capturing the beauty, of tumbling sprinkles, in amaze
While gently unfolding their little hands
And flakes, mysteriously disappear
A fantasy, and wonderful experience
As they mesmerized the season and shed joyous tears
— The End —