Through the frosted window
Lay a world awash in white
Rough edges now made smooth
Every surface now gleamed bright
Such it was for childhood snowfalls
All around a pristine sight
I sat transfixed at my small window
And watched the world awash in white
Later on I would hurry
Don my puffy nylon suit
I’d rush out into the beauty
Make my mark with well worn boots
The crunching sound of lost perfection
Came each time I placed my foot
The blanket subject to the eagerness
Of my winter’s day pursuits
A simple joy of younger days
A memory of the seasons past
I’m saddened by the memory
That the beauty could not last
And while I know in youthful zeal
The driven snow I did harass
That world awash in white
Would always melt into the grass

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