The forecasters foretold
that a winter wonderland was at hand,
that when I awoke this morning there,
a thick layer of snow would cover the ground.
So off to bed I go,
dreaming of the white wonderland,
which was sure to be.
When I awoke,
I dashed to the window,
and poked my head out,
and saw nothing, sure it had snowed,
And what was left here,
were like the crumbs,
Left on a table after a good meal.
It was a dusting of you guessed it snow;
the winds had driven it into drifts so high,
that a mouse could step over them,
to never to have its belly touch their tops.
My trip to the store to seek provisions,
for the blizzard at hand,
was good practice,
for what might one day come.
I will wait and wonder,
of what became,
of the foretold wonderland.