The Pyle Inside

The grand trees were blowing in the wind,

The loose leaves had started to sing.

The birds didn’t join them for the cold,

They huddled together in the cold.

Snow was doing its best today,

For the children to be able to sleigh.

Bells were ringing,

Water was flowing,

The sound of joy through the sky.

Our breathing were visible in white,

Even if it wasn’t the night.

All of the animals shook their heads,

Longing to be in their beds.

Another of the cold mornings of winter.