Poem 7

The heat was coming like a snail on ice,
Spring was almost non-existent this year,
The cold was as bad as a head of lice,
Seeing it go may make some shed a tear.

The house would finally heat all around,
The dog would endlessly shed its winter coat,
The ice would melt without making a sound,
It finally melts and ends up afloat.

My chores will be back for spring cleaning time,
It won't be stuffy with windows open,
My parents will be buying stuff like limes,
I'll be sick of doing everything, slopin'.

Green grass would replace the snow on the lawn,
Revealing where all the dog shit has gone.