Frosty
Frosty Round and white, three balls high, Rolled and rolled, stacked to the sky. Broken branches, left and right, Broom in hand, quite a sight. From the stove, some pieces of coal, Eyes and nose, with buttons of gold. Mommy’s scarf and daddy’s hat, All dressed up and kind of fat. He stays with us all winter long, We play in snow and sing his song. Spring will come, warm winds blow, Frosty melts, ‘til there’s nothing to show. Leonard Thomas Written December 16th, 2001 © on Feb 18 2002 09:56 PM PST 10 • 0
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"Frosty..."