Oh! The irony of the snowman-
When the world is basking in summer warmth
Of springing flowers and singing birds
He’s nowhere to be seen.
But come the winter,
And the earth is but a frozen whiteland
As life is engulfed in the languid cold
His face emerges happy and bright.
Who art thou snowman?
Are you the harbinger of the cold?
A blend of art or a toy for play?
Or a totem of hope to see the dark days through?
Creating memories could be the reason
You are here in this season

You’ll be gone when the sun rises;
I will wait for the next winter.