There's a frozen little snowman
On a frosty Parkside seat,
And he gives a twiggy smile
Two stick arms make him complete.
There's no talons on his fingers,
And he's not got fangs for teeth
He will never climb her building,
For he's got no feet, beneath.
He seems happy in This One Place,
And his form is wholly hairless.
I don't think that they would lock him up
One night, if he gets careless.
His nose is unremarkable.
His upper lip's not cleft.
He doesn't have a beating heart
For love to leave bereft.
So, he's gotten me to thinking.
(I don't mind him in the least.)
You can make a man from snow…
But can you make one from a Beast?
Illustration supplied by the author