Jack Frost

Jack Frost

Winter’s freshness has unfolded,
Tucking away the fall land.
Firewood hibernating on the floor
As Jack Frost shakes my hand.

The hunger of a fiery stove,
Stave not the cold wind’s breath.
These walls unclothed save the outer slats
With cracks running a breadth.

My decrepit home could not keep,
Uninvited he came.
Hand in hand with mother’s linen,
He sits with me the same.

I never knew a man so cold,
A homeless man at that.
To share my bed with such this man
Is chilling on my back.

On a day of warmer degree
To which I tolerate;
I am able to pour my bath
While Jack Frost sits and waits.

To know he always has my back,
‘Tis not a comfort need.
He permeates all I have
When winter sows its seed.



24 lines in a loose 8-6-8-6 syllable count rhyming XaXa. Possibly considered a loose ballad form.