A Winter Poem
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Flakes fall softly through the night.
The moon is big and gold.
We are cuddled up in bed,
too cozy to be cold.
Like the snow, we deeply fall,
but into dreamy sleep -
unaware how very steep
are drifts of snow that creep.
Wakened to a vanished street
and icicles like blades
all hanging sparkling silver,
we rush outside with spades!
Written Dec. 3, 2016 for Shadow Hamilton's A Winter Poem Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
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