It has gotten cold outside. And I’m fighting an old fashioned cold. So today were writing about (a) cold. Even warmth (the anti-cold) brushes the outskirts of our prompt. Warm up to a good cold poem.
MARIE’S GOOD AND COLD POEM:
A LUKEWARM LIMERICK There once was a gal named Marie Who pondered a poem, but gee, Her wits felt flash-frozen, Her words weren’t well-chosen … She figured she’d just take a knee. © Marie Elena Good, 2021
WALT CAN’T SHAKE THIS COLD:
WHERE THE AIR GETS COLD You can feel the chill in the air, for it is there that the feeling lingers. I can sense it in my heavy-mittened fingers and that is just right for my one night flight. Way up North, where the air gets cold. Maybe I’m just getting old and I can’t warm up like I used to. And it is true my home base is a place where this flurry of activity can send me to scurry about, way up North, where the air gets cold. Many folks aren’t really quite sold on the thought of my existence. There is this resistance to recapture the spirit long after it appears to have left them. Way up North, where the air gets cold I make my bold preparations. The Elves work hard to be sure every bell sparkles, every whip snaps. Every present in position. They harness the reindeer every year as Christmas draws ever so near, way up North, where the air get cold! I try my best to make every Christmas a bold beauty. I am Santa Claus, and that’s my sworn duty! (C) Walter J. Wojtanik