The Snowman

Stave 1

The snowman was born

To the sound of boys’ yells,

The clang of sleigh bells,

The crack of a whip

And the clip

Of hooves.

Winter was so wondrously cold,

It bit life into the snowman

And made him creak with joy;

He wished he could move,

Slide on ice like the boys.

But he didn’t like the way

The sun stared,

The way it glared

As it went down;

And when the moon rose

Big and round,

He thought the sun

Had reappeared.

The old watchdog barked:

Gone, gone!

The sun will teach you how to run.

But the snowman didn’t understand,

Even when the dog explained

The difference between the moon and the sun

And warned him of a change to come

In the weather.

The watchdog barked:

Gone, gone!

 

The Snowman Stave 1

Image found on en.wikipedia.org

 

Stave 2

Indeed the weather changed:

In the early hours of the morning

A thick, damp fog ranged;

At dawn, there came a light breeze,

So icy it brought a freeze

And when the sun rose in the sky,

Trees and shrubs were covered in rime,

Their delicate network

A glittering white lacework.

A young couple stopped

To admire the snowman

And the watchdog barked: Gone, gone!

He told the snowman the story of his life:

As a young pup he sat on a velvet chair,

The darling of the master and his wife.

When they had children

And he outgrew them,

There were no more hugs or games:

Gone, gone!

The housekeeper

Kept him in the cellar:

When the dog described

The comfort of the coal-black stove,

Its long neck and brass belly,

A strange feeling

Came over the snowman.

But then the watchdog

Was chained up

Outside

On his own:

Gone, gone!

 

The Snowman Stave 2

Image found on hans-christian-andersens.blogspot.com

 

Stave 3

The snowman’s wish

Was to feel the cosy glow;

He had fallen in love

With the fat-bellied stove

And spent the long night

With her in his frozen thoughts.

In the early morning,

There was freezing, creaking,

Crunching weather

And the cellar window bore

The loveliest ice flowers

That should fill a snowman with joy.

But they blocked his view of the stove;

The windowpanes refused to thaw

And he suffered from his longing.

The watchdog said,

I too have suffered,

But I got over it.

Gone, gone!

The weather changed

As frost turned to thaw

The snowman grew weak

And melted a little more;

He didn’t say a word,

He never complained.

One morning

He just

Toppled

Over

And the watchdog said,

Gone, gone!

 

The Snowman Stave 3

Image found on janetboyer.typepad.com

 

©Kim M. Russell, 2015

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