Reid@YWP

Dear Mr. Snowman,

I wonder what it's like, being made of snow.

What have you observed? What all do you know?

On warmer days you could melt 

Or be blown away by the breeze.

Sometimes we stay outside

on your front steps.

It’s peaceful there.

There are no cars  

or stomping feet.

There are no dishes 

With the crashing tide,

And wisps of wind, 

Rain melts all there was. 

And all that will ever be. 

As water rises in the sea.