Good Old Days
I see that winter has now broken,
steam fills each word, as they are spoken.
Cold air seems to fill the room,
as the stuck in side, brings on its doom.
The land is now covered with snow, and ice,
to go outside, we better think twice.
Slipping and sliding, as we bite the dust,
landing so hard, our rumps we bust.
I haven’t built a snow man, or ridden a sled, in years,
I haven’t had a snow ball fight, being in good cheer.
Now I am old, but I still remember the good times you see,
they will always have their part with me.
Be careful of the snow thats yellow,
cause it belongs to another fellow.
I can still make snow angels,
while I’m flopping around,
might as well do something, instead of laying on the ground.
When I finally, get back up to my feet,
I take two steps, and myself I repeat.
I sure do make a lot of snow angels you see,
once I fall down, the rest is all left to me.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
