- - HOPEFULLY- LAST SNOW- - -
The trees are white and puffy
Snow clings to every branch
The Lake a mirror so placid
Within an open trench
The quiet does surround us
As though we had gone deaf
Not a peep from nere a bird
Not a footprint right or left
And I could swear the calendar
Says that we should be past this thing
For it is almost April
Past the day that we call Spring
So where is all the Sunshine
Where are the birds that sing with glee
I'm so tired of all this Snowfall
Where's the Spring you've promised me?
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms Caroline
© 3-25-2013 All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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