Poems

The Beast of the Cold

The whispering breeze blows,

The pale grass no longer grows.

Shivering from the blundering cold,

I all at once feel old.

Summer has sadly ceased,

This brings the arrival of the beast.

All this chilly weather,

It has made me as frail as a feather.

Winter is clearly here.

I wish it would completely disappear.

But as the New Year shows its face,

Warmer weather will greet us with defined grace.