Lyudmila Purgina (Russian Federation)
The Snowman's looking on world from the cold
With his coal-black bulging eyes.
He smells odour of the frost with his nose,
Made from a red carrot last night.
His smile is a line, made by finger and coloured,
As red-scarlet lips of a man.
His cheeks are both pinky, as petals of rose,
Though he from a snow was made.
On top of his head you may see an old bucket,
And mop is in his boughs-hands.
He is cold and awkward, he's white and abated
From house of man, from the life.
To warm lights of windows, into the house
He is looking from cold of world.
The light's shining bright, they are luring, though
He will melt from giving him warmth.
Comments about this poem (The Snowman by Lyudmila Purgina )
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