Snow sliding down the roof;
by madhumitha murali
Balling down balls by children I hear i joyous cries;
The gushing chilly wind on the window sill;
Reclaimed on a Chair;
Sat My Dear old Grandapa,
Trembling with coldness draped all around;
He wanted to be out;
But health woud'nt permit;
Quipped he from his coffee;
Amanda, dear I live on fun;
When young I experienced it;
Now I hear it! ! !
I realized Life's adaptability brings joyous joy;
That we create and it gets created! !