Snow...
I know not how I'll die.
I know not the time,
but what I do know
is that I will die.
It may not be tomorrow.
It may not be next year.
But what I do know
is that there will be snow.
I love snow.
It glitters and glissens.
I love snow.
It's like a blessin'.
Snow is pure.
Snow is white.
But most of all
it's a wonderful sight.
But the snow won't be pure.
The snow won't be white.
Because when I die
it will show a horrible sight.
poem by Michelle Dickson
Added by Poetry Lover
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