Where Snowmen Grow... Poem by Connetta Jean

It was a cold winter Sunday
As a snow storm poured down
I watched my 6 year old Grandson
Looking out at the ground..
He sat at that window
for hours and dreamed..
and i could hear him whisper
to himself (so it seemed)
He spoke of a snow man
we made months ago
and seemed to be wondering
where do old snowmen go..? ?
Well me being Grandma
I said, I'd sure like to see
what snowman you make
this year for me...
armed in caps and mittens
boots, and coats we did go
carrot and coal our pockets
to make a new snowman grow..
Once the snow guy was built
and we sat warm back inside
we both looked out the window
(the snowman seemed to hide..)
we laughed at how silly we'd been
when it could be right in our sight..
Grandpa came out of no-where
saying " We still got all night! ! "
as we put on our warm duds
getting the carrot and all
I silently thanked God for
Our day of snowfall..