The Snowman

a poem by Dwayne Leon Rankin, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

Walking home this night so fair
With street lamps burning bright.
Immersed in all the winter's air
And the magic of this night.

Looking at the snow to see
All the beauty round.
Captured in serenity,
In wondrous peace there bound.

Then from behind, a snowball flew,
And on my head it fell.
Through the air it struck me true,
Which brought a mighty yell.

With vengeance then I spun around,
To see who I might see.
But all there was in sight I found,
A snowman standing free.

All alone just standing still,
In its proper place.
Built upon a snowy hill,
A smile upon it's face.

No one could be seen nearby,
Nor footprints in the snow.
T'was only there, that snowman nigh,
With nothing else to show.

I turned around to walk away,
To find that peace within.
The magic of this wondrous day,
But then was struck again.

Snowballs flying all around,
Striking as they came.
Snow melt 'neath my shirt now found,
Surprised I did exclaim.

Yelling loud I turned to see,
The ones who threw them all.
But when I looked, it couldn't be!
That snowman standing tall.

Still there in his proper place,
Looking mighty smug.
That silly smile upon his face,
A grinning happy mug.

Then it was the first I saw,
The snowball in his hand.
Stuck within his branch like claw,
To throw there on demand.

I turned around and ran quite fast,
with snowballs falling round.
Some went by me flying past,
and some, my body found.

At last I made it home to stay,
All covered there with snow.
Soaking wet from snowball spray,
From head to feet below.

The magic of this winters night,
I always will recall.
Having lost a snowball fight,
To a Snowman standing tall.

The Passing Seasons

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