The Inkwell

A Silver winning piece of poetry on winter from the pages of allpoetry.com

It starts when the last leaves
of Autumn are falling.
The Air gets colder
with Winter calling.

And Snow starts to fall, as ice starts to form
as weather gets colder than then when it was warm.
And Winter takes hold, as things start to freeze
as Mercury retreats from the cold in the breeze

And as Winter takes a Grip, of this quarter of year,
you’re torn as to whether to cry or to cheer.
As you play in the snow, in day and in night
as the retreating temperature, begins to bite.

The wildlife, they say, seem to know best
as many decide to take up a rest.
Storing a harvest, so they are well fed,
Waiting for Spring, to arise from their bed.

But kids enjoy playing building things in the Snow,
so out in the garden my Nephews will go,
Building a Snowman, wi me and my Dad,
Wrapped up real warmly – as this cold it is bad.