Every night I go outside to see the moonlit snow,
although I seem to stare at her I seldom see her grow.
For when the growing happens I have drifted fast asleep,
I never know exactly when for she makes not a peep.
I suppose she wouldn't wait for me, she's always been so shy,
she only seems to trust the never-ending starry sky.
There must be trust between the pair, the sky must let her go,
and watch her float down through the earth, thats how we get our snow.
After months on end, you start to tire of her stubborn ways,
but when she wants to go you keep on begging her to stay.
You think you want her gone but just remember this one thing,
please don't complain for she is only here till early spring.
Now near the end when there is only left what's on the ground,
she turns from pearly white to a very familiar brown.
So when you ask me what to think of our beloved snow,
for me as time goes on my love for her will only grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem