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Click hereWinter is cold -
Colder than I am.
It is not bold,
But is like a lamb.
It turns the land white,
And makes me sneeze.
The sun is not bright,
And cold is the north breeze.
I will stay by the fire,
And read a good book.
Next year, I will pile the wood higher,
And give winter a cold look.
As I write this poem
In my warm socks,
Canada is my home -
Despite winter's knocks.