A Poem By Edith // 6/18/2007

It is white magic that fills the air
It falls so slow, so gentle and so fair.
It settles upon your open hand
As if ready to be loved;
This white powder from above.

It can be so thick, so light,
Yet oh so smooth and bright,
It shines sparkles and twinkles
Like gems and diamonds upon the ground
Just waiting to be touched, just waiting to be found.

It is your very close friend,
It meets you each December day
In a white shoes and cap and suit
With nothing much to say,
But “play!”, as you holler “Shoot!!”
And a white ball soars through the cold air.

This white friend is Mister Snow,
I know him very well.
We’ve played together since we were kids,
This I surely know.
He laughs, he dances, he plays a tune so fine
This white friend is Mister Snow,
A very close friend of mine.


I love it!

I love the poem! I love the way you put snow as a mister. It is very creative! It makes me not dread winter as much anymore. The ending really finishes it well. I know it is hard to end stories or poems in a full not flat way and you did it wonderfully!

Great job!


Elizabeth | Mon, 06/18/2007


The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine