Gone are the life-jackets,
where only yesterday, like gaudy buoys
They bobbed along, in summer's ardent breeze.
Now winter winds, with howling noise
have come again, divesting woodlands of their leaves.
And in the pond, where once
gay children laughed and played,
Now, lays a mass of frozen ice and snow,
like paraffin, poured over jam, that grandma made,
Before she stored her sweet-meats,
neatly, in a tandem row.