Now what’s that falling from the sky?
It’s white - oh don’t you know?
See it swirling, whirling, dancing -
Well, of course, it is the snow.
You can’t touch it but you’ll feel it
As it blows the flowers and trees.
You can’t taste it, you can’t smell it;
It’s the gently blowing breeze.
You can see it, you can feel it
And to play in it is fun.
It sits up there high in the sky;
Of course, it is the sun.
You can’t see it, you can’t hear it,
And it has no taste or smell.
The one who’s snatched our sun away?
Come on, you know him well!
Who is it? It rhymes with
DOG . . . or FROG
Copyright on all my poems