Before, the last dried leaf, had fallen...
Jack Frost had sung his, Winter's final call-in'.
The breezes brought, the winter chill...
That would grab, all the flowers, to a freeze-dried, kill.
Snow flakes had fallen...
To blanket all the Earth.
Spring, was now forlorn, and sullen...
From the winter's, cold-en birth.
Summer, is now, offed as gone...
No more plant life, amid the, snow white lawn.
Winter's blanket, now covers every thing, that's seen...
Every inch is cloaked in white, nothing, be a-green.
Ice sickles, hang from every, branch and tree...
If anything, that winter has taught us, is, Summer was not, for free.
The creatures are hibernating, in a state of, silent, sleep...
Summer's time is dead, for this fact, we all do, weep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem