Tis cold and freezing, bout twenty below.
The howling wind is whipping the snow.
The sky is dark, the day so bleak.
Looks like it might snow for nearly a week.
The temperature drops a few more degrees.
The cold wind is whistling through the trees.
The snow starts falling to the ground
To pile in drifts without a sound.
The flakes of snow are soft and dry.
Each flake drops slowly from the sky
To add its dainty little size
To drifts that are so slow to rise.
Tis cold and freezing, dark and bleak.
The type of place I yearn to seek.
To there I someday will return.
My heart again will never yearn.
No comments:
Post a Comment