He was brought into being,

On a cold winter’s night.

Two warring young factions,

And a friendly snow fight.

He was cold and quite round,

With a definite flair.

His head full of snow,

Instead of with hair.

He flew through the sky,

With an abundance of glee.

Then splat it was over,

On the side of a tree.

He picked himself up,

And patted his head.

“No more of this!”,

I think that he said.

He played in the snow,

But away from the boys.

“Life is for living,

I’m not one of their toys!”

Seasons do change,

At least here in the north.

And soon it was warmer,

The flowers burst forth.

Everyone thought,

Their snow friends had gone,

Perhaps then next winter,

Once again, they’d be spawn.

But our hero of note,

Had just made a plan.

He’d stay though the seasons,

And come forth as a man.

On a warm summer’s day,

When the freezer is humming.

Behind ice cubes and creams,

He might just be slumming.

So, remember these words,

As you shiver with cold.

Our hero is near,

He’ll never grow old.