• Rich Engelbrecht

Winter, Winter

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?