The Snowman Poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
The Snowman
I made you with my own hands
Out of cotton stuffs,
your eyes were but little holes
And I shivered with their cold.
Your smile-I made that too-
Untouched by my love,
Mirrored your cold affection:
and neither love in your making
Or tears of a heart breaking
reached your cruel mind.
I broke you
Then I danced with joy.
You are no more.
Published in the Beachplums Spring 1970.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:41:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
