A layer of white
Is covering the ground
It ever so slowly
Is tumbling down
It’s turning the landscape
Into are beautiful thing
Until I go out in it
And then it does bring
Bring thoughts of the traffic
Bring thoughts of the slides
The cars will be doing
When I take my ride
Yes ride to my home
As slow as can be
Because yes this white stuff
Is so nice to see
But not to go out in
No not to plow through
And easily end up
In a ditch cursing too
Yes cursing I did not
Stay home yes today
A watch it from home where
In safety, I’d lay
By ronald gainsford
© 2001 Ronald Gainsford
BY RGAI
