What I Hate About Winter
Cough and wheeze
Less time to play
No place to go--
Winter is slow
The winter sings a windy song
That hustles rusty leaves along.
The winter sings a song of hail
That pings and pains like falling nails.
The winter sings a song of sleet
As sloshing cars clip down the street.
The winter sings a song of snow,
A whispering as