White crispy flakes are falling from the sky.
These flakes are snow and in the wind they fly.
The clouds’ children, spinning in a dance.
Although it’s warm, they choose to take their chance.
Born of the sky, the heirs of heaven’s tears,
They gather strength in cold as winter nears.
They glide to land, majestically fall,
Forming a crystal white and shining wall.
A soft white blanket of these flakes is made,
The land it covers, just as heavens bade,
There it awaits, until the time of spring,
And it will die when birds come back to sing…
Snow
© Copyright: Шуйский, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104111700021
Свидетельство о публикации №104111700021
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