Without Snow
It's not the same without the snow,
since I have moved out west.
I could not walk, I could not drive;
no more snow was my quest.
But then I came to realize
the beauty of the snow.
I miss the flakes and their soft fall,
but how was I to know?
Out here, it rains and rains and rains,
the winter season through.
Maybe, sometimes, one day in ten,
there is a glimpse of blue.
Well, here I'm stuck, rest of my life.
without that wintry joy.
Just buckets, barr'ls, oceans of rain
and, really, it does cloy.
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