Winter Poetry

“You don’t really need your toes,

that’s why I froze

them,” says the Snow.

“It is so nice,

to become ice,

and trip you so,”

continues Snow.

“I think that you

look good in hues

of purple and blue.”

You realize

with watering eyes

that Snow was true

when you

remove your gloves.

“Don’t you worry;

you’ll only see

much more of me,”

Snow giggles out.

It is, after all, only January.

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