• I’m sick of fancy poems,
    Full of dumb clichés,
    All about winter,
    And short, dark days.

    Well what’s so great about winter?
    And freezing strait to the bone?
    Maybe it’s the novelty
    Of warming up at home.

    Or maybe it’s the feelings
    Of love that it provokes,
    When you’re snowed in
    You learn what you value most.

    I still don’t get the point
    Of writing all these poems,
    As if to anoint
    This miserable time as King.

    But there is one point
    One little thing,
    That I do love about the season,
    And that little thing,
    Is SNOW!