A cool, winter morning
decided to be kind.
It gave us a piece of its mind
while we were bitterly mourning.
It's breath was icy
but not enough to freeze.
It was more like a breeze
and somewhat fiesty.
We were coping with the weather
as chilly as it was
even if it does
make us feel better altogether.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem