The flakes are floating softly down,
White curtains drape the trees,
The ground is carpeted with snow
That reaches to my knees,
And O, I wish I had a coat,
It's only seven degrees,
And if I don't get indoors soon,
I'm really gonna freeze!
But I'm outside my own front door
And I can't find the keys,
So I suppose I'll be outside
Till someone comes and sees
That I'm here outside shivering,
With snow above my knees,
And lets me in my house, before
I die, and rest in peaze...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem