>>>>>>>>>>>>index<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

The Killer Frost

 

Sweet coloured flowers, so delicate blooms,

That brighten the summer until autumn looms.

These things are lost.

To the killer Frost.

 

Late season chicks, hatched after the rest,

Eggs laid too late, and still in the nest.

These things are lost,

To the killer frost.

 

The old and infirm or with no cash to spare,

Those poor folk with no-one to care.

These too are lost

To the killer frost.

 

New seasons shoots, in bulb and in corm,

And sleeping wee beasties, snuggling warm.

Folk in good health, and those cared for with love,

Protected from the cold, like a hand in glove.

All is not lost,

To the killer frost.

 

 

© Kev the Cosmic Fool  2004

 

 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>index<<<<<<<<<<<<