The snow falls softly and silently to the ground,
My tongue sticks out to catch the flakes one by one,
Like tiny wet kisses, the flakes brush across my upturned face,
Leaving infinite reminders that they were there.
The cold air assaults my lungs with every breath,
In and out the hot and cold air streams collide.
A perfect day for a snowball fight.
I hide behind the tree amassing my stash of snow cannons,
Waiting for the next victim to come into sight.
