Dare I compare thee to an Arctic day,
for though art an angry ill-natured cuss.
As you arrived, with cold blizzard’s fuss,
it was clear to me, you have come to stay!
Dare I hold thee to my warm bosom tight,
when frigidity is your ill intended scene?
Possessed of a presence, brutally mean,
you waste no time, exerting your right.
Dare I hope to change your wintry ways,
or put your fickle aspirations to the test
when such anger swells from your icy breast?
Mourn I the loss of the sun’s consoling rays!
Wonder I, how long this bitter cold will last?
My patience, threadbare thin, is departing fast!
Rhymer. March 6th, 2014