Don't hate my hating.
It's pretty and it's white,
So fluffy it might seem,
The colour of untainted white,
Like clouds or like a dream.
Reality hits hard though.
It's cold and cruel and wet,
It can turn to slush so fast,
Or ice - if it does set.
Looking out, it's pretty,
From the comfort of inside,
The gentle fall and drift of flakes,
With 'nothing' bad to hide...
But, ugh! It makes me shudder!
And ew! It makes me scowl,
The thought of snow just seeping in,
Is enough to make me growl!
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