Wonderful Winter Poem

My snow-scene

It is freezing,
it is bleak,
it’s snowing wildly,
in the creek.

The snow when you touch it,
is bitingly cold,
and you better not swing on snowy branches,
as you’re told.

The trees are bending, frowning below us,
and the bare branches flittering wildly in the wind.
The ice is curving cautiously around us,
and the wind is slowly starting to sinde.

‘Sinde’ is a made up name,
may you know,
and means that the wind’s going
to the bright white snow.


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