Icy Children

*yawns* too early in the blasted morning to be up. 5 flipping am. Ugh. Anyways, have a poem written during winter (it's autumn now by the by, so yes, I wrote it ages ago) but I like it.

On a chilly Winters Day,
when the trees bend and sway;
people will stay indoors
and pad about on cold stone floors.

They think it's cold at noon,
so eat warmth with a spoon.
Nary a thought for the dawn
when they slept, safe and warm.

Bundled warmly in a quilt,
tucked in nice with down and felt;
being cared for like a babe
every day is the same.

If you saw the silver gems
that hide their children,
At dawn on Winters Day
that helps them hide and say;

'Sleep mortal, rest your lazy head;
Warm, in your very own bed'
They giggle with their childish glee,
there isn't much that makes them unhappy.

So they toy and play in fun
but hide their faces from the sun.
For the golden rays would reveal
magic, and make it real.

There they are, fast asleep.
Safe and secure in a blooming leaf,
snoozing a brisk day away;
Ready for a night, with which to play.


There we go, enjoy. Not that good by my standards today, but considering I wrote it when I was like...tweleve or eleven, it's not too bad I guess.