PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Icicles form on my beard

as the snow descends

and children declare war

as I innocently shovel—

It were good packing snow

but my wool Pakistani mittens

were no match.

So numb fingers dared frostbites

while hands turn blue and white

but not as bright as the gloves.

And the children

gleefully attempted blitzkrieg

but I stood my ground

with victory in sight

in spite diminished capacity.