Poetry

Cold Morning (#1362)

Oh, my goodness, it’s freezing!
The crisp air has me wheezing,
My nose has already started to run,
Being this cold really isn’t that fun,

Oh, my goodness, it’s cold!
Jack Frost has me in his hold,
Right to the bone the cold could I feel,
Such a stark degree of chill,

Oh, my goodness, it’s frigid!
My wet hair frozen and rigid,
Holding back the shivers with all my might,
My extremities numb and white.

Any Thoughts?

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