The cold is a shudder
how I wonder, what lies younder
up, down, down up
the cold is horizontal, is it accidental?
must it replace summer, or is it a winner?
the cold is a runner, it gallops
but suddenly ends, and then
it is like a dream,
which weans me away from truths
for summer is near, oh dear!
who is the winner, winter or summer?
the rains lash as an interlude, why must
winter, summer, the rain
all go in vain, for time tick tocks
keeping a glassy watch,
which I match yearly, quarterly
the days slowly, then the year comes to
What wishes do I send?