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FROSTBITES horrible to get
HOT CHOCOLATE sweet and warm
SNOWBALL FIGHTS almost never end
ICICLES stick to your mittens
by Kennedy Erwin
January 7, 2005
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing.
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