Snow Angel

I can see them out of my window,
though I'm not sure that they can see me.
I'll wave now: can they see me?
I don't think so; I don't know:
nobody's waving back.
There they are still.
Snowflakes are falling. It looks so pretty;
pretty cold.

They're laughing, all wrapped up:
gloves, scarves, Wellington boots, nice and cosy.
I wonder if they know it, because I do,
that they're like dragons out there,
breathing in and out, in and out in the cold air.
I wish they could see me, talk to me.
That's what I asked the star I saw last night.
I'll wait and see until

Mummy calls me.
She says I'll catch a chill, maybe,
letting the frosty wind reach out for me with
cold fingers that might hurt me.
I don't mind.
Look, I'm looking even now.
Snow in the sky, snow on the ground.
Somebody's staring right back at me!

I'm happy because they know I'm here,
and that I've been watching them all this time.
Why don't they talk to me?
They're laughing again.
Snowballs to and fro, what was that?
It hit my window. I think I'll smile at them,
but maybe that's why they won't talk to me.
Mummy says I have a beautiful smile.

Now they're making a little figure in the snow.
If they'd let me I think I'd like to be a snow-person for them.
I'm proud because I can see that
it's an angel. We have one on top of our Christmas tree,
although she's not a snow angel:
she's all glitter and blue dress. Pouty red lips, tiny wings.
Mummy let me put her up high, high on the tree;
she says that's a special job for her special little girl.

Perhaps if I'm a good Daddy will take me out later
on the sledge. It's polished and red so that it gleams.
Rudolph, that's what we call it.
Isn't that a good name? It doesn't have a nose,
but it's all red and shiny like Santa's reindeer's funny nose.
I hope I have been a good girl this year,
because I like Santa. He likes my smile too;
I smile when I'm happy.

Mummy wants me to come for tea now,
and she'll want me to eat it all up like a
good girl. I'm a good girl, but my brother's bad;
that's what Mummy says.
I think he hurt me when I fell on the floor,
like the cold fingers through my window, but no;
I was quite small then. A baby, I think.
I'm still a little girl.

If I don't go now Santa might not visit;
I'm just waiting for them to talk to me.
They know I'm here now,
watching them play. I like playing too!
Should I wish on the star again tonight?
tt didn't work last time. I want them to talk to me;
the snow angel's perfect now.
Mummy says I'm her special little girl.