Winter Photographer

Alexander P.

A storm clouds the sky,
Whirlwinds of snow;
Like a beast, she will conquer,
It'll cry like a child,
The roof is dilapidated
Suddenly a rustle of straw,
Then, as a belated traveler,
He'll knock on our window.
Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you, my old lady,
Paused by the window?
Or the storm howling
You, my friend, are tired,
Or doze off under the buzz
Your spindle?
Cheers, good friend.
My poor youth,
Drink with grief; where is the mug?
Your heart will be happier.
Sing me a song, like a bird
Quietly by the sea lived;
Sing me a song like a girl
Water in the morning was going.
A storm clouds the sky,
Whirlwinds of snow;
Like a beast, she will conquer,
He'll cry like a child.
Cheers, good friend.
My poor youth,
Drink with grief: where is the mug?
Your heart will be happier.