They’ve travelled on the cold wind’s breath
And danced upon the breeze;
Beneath the shivering, silvery moon
They’ve rested on the trees.
They’ve coated countryside and town
With a mantle of soft snow,
And here come children, out to play,
Their faces all aglow.
Warmly wrapped in coats and scarfs,
Warm hats upon their heads,
They’re up and out to greet the snow,
Forsaking cosy beds.
The snow’s disrupted working man -
Caused problems which annoy -
But, to the children of our world,
The snowflakes have brought joy.
Copyright on all my poems
When I say "they" in the first line, of whom am I speaking? Snow, surely is "it?" Ask the children. The answer is: snowflakes, of course. Personification again, of course. Josie