A new poem

For a winter that has gone on too long

The winter here is a smitten lover
that makes the toes chilly
and the self esteem droop
like boobs without a bra

Where did we go wrong after
an extended tryst through the Indian Summer?

I try to play in the snow
I am too big for a sled
and too poor for a snowmobile
I am some sort of abominable snowman

I have read too much this winter
and it`s only February
rivers and seas, biographies and box scores,
love notes and rejection letters

Where did we go wrong after the summer slipped through our fingers?
Sand through the sifter of our souls!