Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Life Cycle of a Snowman

By , Spotsylvania, VA

I woke up in the morning,

With the world so bright and new,

Then I looked down and saw I was a snowman,

It’s sad, but it’s true

They say there was a snowman,

Who lived to see the sun,

But he never returned to his kin,

I’m guessing it wasn’t much fun-

My coat is made of white packed firm,

my scarf is green and red

Yet I shy away from the light,

And wipe the sweat off my head

Now the sun is glistening bright,

on the land I hold so dear,

and I can’t enjoy the sunrise,

My end is much too near

Drops of water slide down my back,

Leaving spheres upon the snow,

But as I try to keep from crying,

I hear a voice, deep and low,

Smooth and soft is the voice I hear,

Kind and nothing less,

As the sun’s melody lures me in,

As I become a dripping mess

Sighing, melting, listening,

To the Great Sun in the sky,

And I give myself up to the water,

I don't know how or why

A pool of water in the earth,

is, alas, all I am,

And the last of me to drop

is my long, sharp stick hand

But wait! I am moving,

Rising up, over the white,

In that place between land and sky-

and heading for the light

From my cloud I watch the children

Playing in the snow; on a sandy shore,

So I settle into the condensation,

To wait for snow to fall once more.
 




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback