When Winter Comes Poem by Timothy Faboade

When Winter comes, witty Nature
Its beauties and glories evacuates
And for a while till March vacates
So, its fairness Winter won't puncture.

The agile sun becomes weary
So, though not in humility, is low
Allowing night for a while to glow,
The sun has never been wary.

When Nature in the eyes vanishes,
In the admiring hearts it flourishes,
For there it's watered and nourished.
So, by Winter Nature isn't banished.

From December Nature itself winters
Revelling till its fairer return in March
So as not with the fiery Winter bashes.
Winter is but a dreadful pincher!