“Hurry, hurry, before it goes”
Where it came from no one knows.
On with the hat, the scarf and the gloves
On with the wellies still covered in mud
On with the mac and out of the door
Running and sliding and shouting for more.
Rolling it up into 2 big balls
Laughing and waiting for more to fall.
2 stones for his eyes, a small clump for his snout
A twig for his cigar stuck into his mouth
3 stones for his waistcoat to give him some style
Our hat and our scarf complete his profile.
Now back in the warmth, we all stand and smile
We check on his wellbeing every little while.
But bedtime comes round and sleep fills our eyes
We dream of the snowman and mum’s christmas pies.
Tomorrow he’s gone, we don’t really know where,
The sun is now shining, we don’t really care.
He’s only in transit, he comes and he goes
Forgotten for now till the next time it snows.
© Sheila Ash 17th January 2016