Dear Madam Winter,

An appeal to your Bitter, Blustery Highness,
As your Icicled fingers of Frigid coldness,
Begins to drift in and it gets drafty,
Could we appeal to your Foggy, Frostbitten senses?
Could your Frozen Flurries and Freezing Rain be few?
We spend tons on Flus, Flannels and the Fireplace too!
Heating our Hearths to halt Hypothermia!
Expensive jackets, gloves, leggings, woolly mittens, caps, scarves and socks,
Long-Johns, Overcoats, Parkas and the entire shindig, cost a huge packet too!
White Christmas, Snowman and Ice skating is nice we know,
But Ma’am, we could do without your,
Foggy Overcast which forebodes Ice-storms and Hails!
We could survive without your Slippery Black Ice too!
We Turn Blue from the Huge Heaps of Knee-deep Snow on our doorsteps,
Where we are forced to Seek Cozy Comfort, to Bundle, to Hibernate and indulge in,
Copious cups of hot chocolate and Warm Soup,
Until your Dreary Frozen Highness,
Thaws from the Fingers of the Warming Sun!
Please, Your Frostbitten Excellency,
Do not get gusty and nip at my Chimney in annoyance,
I simply utter a shivery request!
Thank you, Your Chilliness.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry Day 9: Cold, Concrete Poetry, Epistrophe/Anaphora

Image courtesy: Pinterest