Angel. NOT in snow.

Oh where, oh where, is that new fallen snow?
The stuff of romance, of winter’s big show
The fluffy soft white stuff, that blows to and fro
Oh where, oh where, is my new fallen snow?

My muse, she is waiting, for a world filled with snow
As she did for Kandinsky, Pissarro, Van Gogh
All creatively frozen, their hearts filled with woe
My muse, she is waiting, for a world filled with snow

My gardens are crinkly, brown, grey and, uh oh
They seem to be wondering which way to go
Disintegrate, wither, hang in there, or no
My gardens are crinkly, brown, great and uh oh

So where. The fluck. Is all the freakin’ snow?
Freeze-ed and tease-ed, I can’t take much mo’
Mother Nature, you winter-glee-free no-snow ho’,
So where. The fluck. Is all the freakin’ snow?

Thanks for readin’.

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