Frost Poem by G.S.Vasu Kumar

Stubborn frost
Thinks he can rule
Over everything.
Making the flowing
River, crystal.
The beautiful trees are
Now, sadly ice-bound.
The friendly breeze's
Gentle sound,
Has become a ghostly
Cry.
The green grass that
Plays with the naughty
Dew too has to die.
It makes the windows
And the roof tops
To wear it's ghostly
White cloak.
Makes even the smelly
Socks to catch cold
And cry.
In this long battle,
Someone has to win
And someone to loose.
The sun finally strikes
With it's longest sword
Called, 'Ray'.
Stripping his arrogance
And striking him
Real dead,
And making his
Hard white clotted
Blood to finally melt.