Beautiful Is The Song Of The Snow Poem by Cold Teardrop

Once uppon a time
Mother Nature and Father time
bewitched by a dropp of wine
commited they a terrible crime.

Living in a far, far land
is a family, angels blessed,
a child had they on their hand,
but mom and dad think their child is a pest.

But the little one grew,
into being 5 years old,
and the only food the child chew,
was awfuly rotten, hard and cold.

As winter came waters freezed,
and the stock had died.
The couple was not pleased
they threw their child into the wide.

Wandering alone, scared and ill,
the young began to cry.
Suddenly he stopped and stood still,
He turned his little head pointing to the starlit sky.

He saw the whiteness smoothly coming down,
dancing, falling, smiling to the boy,
genlty wrapping, until his head was no more brown,
they gifted him a precious toy.

They started singing,
falling one after another,
into his little ear, until it started stinging,
little angels, sent by their Mother.

Beautiful was the song of the flakes,
elegant and pure, soft and stunning,
irremovable by thousands of lakes,
but listening to was dearly cunning.

For the young has seen,
villages and forests,
anywhere the flakes have been,
these angels can be quite a chorus.

But the boy was there,
when time was passing, minutes floating
he had an icy, very icy hair,
and his cheeks were red, the roses quoting

Seing from her crystal balcony, Mother Nature the angles scattered,
She cried a heavy drop,
but that was of no matter,
for the child's heart had stopped.

She hugged the little darling,
when it opened eyes, she burst a laughter,
a snow flake had it become, with wings bright and sparkling,
he can now sing his story to the word to come, so that we all can live happily ever after! ...