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Snow

I am an epidemic of white
Truth be told, I should be a horrible sight
I kill your crops, I’m definitely freezing
Yet you seem to find me quite pleasing

When I appear, I hear something called “jingle bells”
And see a feast with delightful smells
You pack me up, shape me in a ball
And throw me in a freezing brawl
Or you roll me up, in a stack
And give me coal eyes of black
Some of you protect me in a box of cold
Like I am precious gold

What is wrong with you? Fear me!
I am the cold, go on and flee!
I am not something of pristine beauty
Death is my duty!

Oh no, the sun is out
He is my enemy, no doubt!
I must depart, you’re lucky you’re alive
But soon, I shall revive
And you will see how terrible I can be!

By the way, please stop shoveling me
(It hurts terribly!)

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May-June Issue: Youthink Magazine