The snowflakes come barreling out of the sky
Drifting on breezes that come passing by.
I admit that the crystals are pleasing to see
But why can’t they fall on one other than me?
White dancing snowflakes, so merry and gay
Streak past my window nearly every other day.
At this rate I cannot imagine just how
To ever leave home without stealing a plow.
Grand larceny doesn’t seem prudent, I know.
But neither does sitting here, buried by snow.
My only conceivable doubt with this grift,
Is finding a plow that’s not stuck in a drift.
So here I sit, waiting for spring to breeze in
Dreaming of beaches, and sun on my chin,
Determined that somehow, I’ll make it through this
Without having to sacrifice more of my sanity than is absolutely necessary, are you kidding me with this freaking snowstorm?
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