That's Just Me
Looking outside, I see fresh fallen snow,
everything wears a light dusting of white,
and time itself runs perceptibly slow.
While icicles, sparkling in the sunlight,
have morphed into a splendiferous sight.
My breath frosts, for the air is freezing cold,
and the trees are glazed in layers of ice;
creating a wonderland to behold.
Blizzards levy an exorbitant price,
Winter's weather is anything but nice.
Autumn colors have vanished, all looks bland,
and there are no more sweet songbirds to sing:
for they've migrated to a warmer land.
And Winter's firm grip continues to cling,
while my heart pines for the coming of Spring.
I miss the leafy canopies of green,
as well as fragrant wildflowers in bloom,
and babbling brooks, picturesque and serene.
I prefer Spring's warmth over Winter's gloom,
but that's just me: I don't mean to presume.
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