Ice Is Rude, the Sun Is Nice
ice crystals tapping on my window pane
no shape the same, none have fame
dropping down from the sky so fine
now frozen flat to make this rhyme.
before the sun begins to shine
I cannot see out, too old to whine
the ice man cometh, leaving his mark
the sun will calm the winter’s bark
Copyright © Douglas Pederson | Year Posted 2019
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