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The snow, she falls and she covers the ground
Leaving not a blade of grass to be found
She covers the roads and covers the trees
Whiting out the world without saying please

Often things happen without permission
Life is not always of my volition
Snow, please continue. I doubt that it will
Spreading her evil bitchiness and chill

Why am I writing a poem about snow?
To tell you the truth, I don't really know
The snow, though, just stoped; I think out of spite
Eerily calm, in contrast to tonight

It's gonna be fun, I really do think
Starting at 6 with my very first drink
The first of many, in a wild night
With teachers and friends and bowling delight

I'm still kinda weary about this eve
Will she stay for it all, or will she leave?
Should I be tasteful and tactful and nice?
The beer might give me its own good advice...

Eep.
Danny