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Protect the flock! From JP and Hachette!

Winter-oh, winter. How I love thee.

The most wonderful time of the year, they say-I'd have to agree.

While we bask in our money, presents under our Christmas tree,

As we head up to the mountains and snowboard and ski,

Our homeless brethren freeze and cry

As the land of death becomes for them nigh,

Their children shiver, and by the truckload die.

Snow drifts slowly downward-death from the sky.

What an irony it is, the spirit of giving-

Despite the fact that we don't give to the barely living.

And I'm afraid that for charity their is no forgiving-

We commit this sin, despite our misgiving.

So please! Spend your money without care for the poor

Who cares if their children are at the reapers door?

Where we are, it's food and money galore!

Winter is certainly something we all should adore.

(But our own misfortune is a heavy fee-

For too ourselves, we truly lie.

For when we see the weak, when we sit down for our thanksgivings.

Internally, our conscience wages it's war.)

Views: 1

Comment by Ovie! Ovie! Ovie! Oy! Oy! Oy! on December 29, 2009 at 5:15pm
Oh, great poem, made me all warm and tingly inside.
Comment by ScubaGrl<3 on January 7, 2010 at 8:54am
Aaah, me too! Better than I could do! :)


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