Friday, January 7, 2011

Icicles

 

Clear glass spears of jagged teeth

Across the roof drip down beneath

To touch the tree with drips and drops

Until the cold comes to make them stop.

I'll break them off for swords and duels

When I'm a bit older, won't that be cool!

I'll watch them break, shatter, and crash

Better run for cover with a dash!

Right now I'd like to grab one for a taste

I'm sure there better than the mushy paste.

For now, I'll just watch them drip, drip, drip

Because no one will let me even get a grip!

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