I arrive in the dead of night
when the world is still and void of light
and unaware, you lie in bed
with dreams of summer in your head-
all shimmering and bright...
And when you wake to find me here,
that sad expression will appear,
the one that says, "Oh no! Not yet!"
Oh, how quickly you forget
what beauty ends the year.
So quietly, like each December
I abide while you remember
the lovely sound of crunching snow
and crackling fires, all aglow-
first spark to final ember...
And pale moonlight, soft on your skin
that blush of pink, warmth from within
as you stroll through my icy field
and bare tree limbs, their souls revealed,
beguile you once again.
Of course I know that seasons fade
and the first red bloom or bright green blade
will likely your affections steal-
just don't forget the true appeal
of snowflakes on parade.