Oblivion

Twinkling, descending, clear shafts Drip helplessly from Garage roofs, and Ice takes shape of pealed Paint along the house-side, And I’m glad because at least once a year my Baker Street home sparkles with vitality like The ones in my sugar Plum dreams that came too Early for Christmas anyway. I’m poised on the porch Torched with sagging snow Gear my mother deems necessary For flu season, but really I’m just a malfunctioning Weeble Wobble- I could Crumble within the snow, Become one with the weather And erode away with winter, But at least I’m equipped. I reluctantly step onto The arctic floor- "Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed." But my foot will only meet grass When my padded knees greets the Snow frosted top. My legs commit foreign attack on The city of snowflakes and angels Packed upon my front lawn- I push to the center of the lawn. I become tired and Start To fall On my back. Tiresome and treacherous Neighborhood children charging for my yard “HEY, JOHNSON! JOHNSON, LOOK!” “I don’t know if I can have friends ove-“ “Look what we made, Johnson, we made Snow Lemonade. We want You to try it First.” They hand me a Mason jar Full to the top of something that Resembles a slushy you might Find at the local gas station, But mother doesn’t trust Hand Sanitation of fuel pumps, Not to mention the inside store. And I can’t help but think to myself How kind the older boys were To share such a treat with me. But once I take a swig, My joyous snow day doth cease.