dropping some rhymes on a snowy morning

by Rostock Frost

Which gloves I’ll wear I think I know
Without them m’hands would get wet and cold
I’ll not forget the toque, lest fear
I watch my hair pile up with snow

My little bike must think it queer
Sans winter tires I still do steer
Between my house and office place
Before the streets the ploughs do clear

It squeaks and rattles as we race
Down the road at breakneck pace
This path I know, it’s nearly trite
The cars join me on their daily chase

The snow is lovely, soft and bright
Just wear a scarf that’s not too light
Some woollen socks and you’ll be just right
Some woollen socks and you’ll be just right

[Just one of my countless tributes to Robert Frost’s timeless poem]

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