I’ve the spirit of an infant
which you’ll notice from the instance
you’re subjected to my presence.
(Yes, my thoughts are barely cogent.)
I could go frolic on my street
fore there’s not a soul a stirring
I admit the thought’s alluring
but I fear it’s time for shov’ling.
Worry hours of snow showers
gonna lead to loss of power
as in comfy home I cower
sitting hour after hour.
Guess I’ll postpone my partaking
of the snow fueled merry-making
and instead of play I’m flinging
fluffy stuff from where car’s parking.
Into each life some work must fall
for some snowfall does not enthrall;
ice is slippery, may want to crawl:
Winter have mercy on us all.
Please wish me well and wish me luck,
here’s praying car does not get stuck,
if in snowdrift I am dead duck
would you be nice and call tow-truck?