Elisabeth Anne Wingle
Snow 42 Years In The Making - Poem by Elisabeth Anne Wingle
For me, it doesn't matter at all!
Forever I wish the snow would fall.
Piles and piles, seven feet tall
Never, have I ever felt so small
Snow can make the darkest night
Into a world bright with light
I walk home while its snowing
Snowmen and snowforts growing
The children are screaming
Hot cocoa is steamjng
By the time I get home, l know
I will always love the snow!
Poet's Notes about The Poem
I had to edit a few things. But, overall I think it's not bad! Except for the part about 'loving the snow'. What was I thinking? ?
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