Snow is falling.
It’s cold.
Icicles hang
on the sill.
Drops of
frigid water
fall from
the tip of
the icicle
and land
on my
nose.
I pluck
the
icicle
from
the sill
and
happily
munch
on
winters
candy.
****
***
**
*
The beauty of your simplicity, and the image of the moment is refreshing. Jim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the way the poem is shaped like an icicle. -Lydia,13