Snow isn't seen
in this town faraway.
Our snow is green
and isn't any good for a sleigh.
No skiing on a slope
or you'll get a grass burn.
We just seem to cope
with having no turn.
No child wants to slide
down a sticker grass hill.
It rips off the hide
and makes you feel ill.
You get many abrasions
from every single bump.
You remember occasions
that you fell on your rump.
No Christmas snow this year.
None that we see.
I won't be able to hear
reindeer flying in front of me.
Santa will be just a riding
a four horse power lawn mower.
There will be definitely no hiding
from what he'll have in store.
He'll mow up and down a patch
and then look at me.
I know there's a catch
as he tosses me the key.
It's my turn to mow
He says hop on and ride.
If it would just only snow
I would be safely inside.
Watching the falling snowflakes
coming down from the sky,
but now all I do is rake
piles of leaves miles high.
The weather is very wrong
for what it's supposed to be.
I hear a Christmas song
of a White Christmas I don't see.
I stare at the calendar on the wall
and ask is this true?
Is it not Spring Summer or Fall
do you have a clue?
The weather plays its little games
It's warm and then cold again.
Maybe we won't see winter rains
and the Christmas snow will then begin.
Then those songs will make a little since
as I hear them one by one.
I'll finally see snow on the back fence.
My White Christmas will have begun.
©By Bill Pearce
Dec 21, 2002