As the last snow flakes fall on his little nose,
He wonders which way the wind will blow.
As the days begin to lengthen,
And nights become short,
He longs for spring, yet none of the sort.
The days of freezing hands, ears and toes,
He only wishes would start to go,
Yet still every morning when he peeks outside,
The sight of his snowman makes him quicken his stride.
He often wonders how seasons change,
All of a sudden, yet so very slow, how strange.
The final days of sledding and snowball fights,
Soothe his long old winter nights.
By Charlotte (DPI)