'The trouble with snowmen,' <br />Said my father one year <br />'They are no sooner made <br />than they just disappear. <br /> <br />I'll build you a snowman <br />And I'll build it to last <br />Add sand and cement <br />And then have it cast. <br /> <br />And so every winter,' <br />He went on to explain <br />'You shall have a snowman <br />Be it sunshine or rain.' <br /> <br />And that snowman still stands <br />Though my father is gone <br />Out there in the garden <br />Like an unmarked gravestone. <br /> <br />Staring up at the house <br />Gross and misshapen <br />As if waiting for something <br />Bad to happen. <br /> <br />For as the years pass <br />And I grow older <br />When summers seem short <br />And winters colder. <br /> <br />The snowmen I envy <br />As I watch children play <br />Are the ones that are made <br />And then fade away.<br /><br />Roger McGough<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trouble-with-snowmen/
