by Donald Loudon
Crispy snow falls to the ground
on crispy dew all around
Throwing all in sight of air
flowing hither and flowing there
Longing to play with the ball
laying on down around the wall
Seconds come in want to play
taking on minutes both night and day
Take along your sweet heart and soul
living loving your only goal
At the point that we did shout
not at all sure we got it out
Sweeping winds in growing breeze
all that which is there to please
On the way toward the bridge
spotting you running on the ridge