The snow falls in windy disarray,
gathering in small, disorderly heaps on the ground,
I watch it from a distance,
with a warm mug clutched in my hands.
The first snowfall is always magical,
My inner child would leap with joy,
And I would out stick my tongue to catch a snowflake.
A month until Christmas would seem too far away,
but seeing the snow fall now makes my heart ache,
In a way it never has before.
I know the snow won’t stay,
It’s still too early and I don’t have winter boots,
But the childlike wonder I once had is missing,
And I think this may be the beginning of the end.
No holiday spirit or anticipation,
Just another holiday corrupted by capitalism,
And I know I’ve become too cynical for my age.