It is, one of, those, Jack Frost eves
When echoes, whisper, in the hills
Cold enigmas, warm zephyr, thieves
From the, frozen hearts, of the daffodils!

The softest, treads, of wanderlust
Is all, I sense, on a, stormy day
Where came, from this, angel august
Twirling, to me, in, divine display!

A bale, of fleece, or, a bundle, of joy
How many, miles away, has left, her herd
She makes me, yearn, to be, that boy
I forsook, for this, world, absurd!

Who leave, no promises, to return
Find, new pastures, to graze, and grow
From, whom, this doctrine, I discern
A Dinky Doe, Lost, In Snow!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra