Updated: Mar 11
Winter, Winter, blowing in the air;
Icicles hanging from my nose and hair.
Cold wind blowing me here and there;
Will this snow capture me in its snare?
Movement near me gives me a scare;
Staring at it, I glare.
Turning back, I climb the stair;
To my lair;
Dreaming of sleep, so fair.
Warmer weather is my prayer.
By the way, did I share;
Or do you even care?
That I am a bear?