I went outside this morning
But it wasnít very nice.
Everything was covered
With a treacherous coating of ice.
Tree limbs bent low, bowing
With all the added weight.
I scurried back inside.
It wouldnít do to hesitate.
Fingers numb and toes aítingle.
My nose decided it would run.
Itís hard to think that in my youth
I thought days like this fun.
Not a footprint left behind.
Not a dent upon the snow.
It was as though no life was there
With temperature of five below.
Snowballs? You surely jest!
Iíve nothing that would break the crust.
Itís so quiet outside, my neighbors
Have stayed warmly inside, I trust.
So, you say, a cozy fireplace
Would warm this chill I feel within?
Rather than go out for wood,
Iíll just pull the blankets to my chin.
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