spectacles
Learn more about other poetry terms
It follows us, mockingly
Ever remembering
Persistent, a most ruinous companion
It’s funny, isn’t it?
Our past
And this little game we play
Ethereal angel of ice and snow,
Against thy cheeks, the wind doth blow.
A zesty tang of winter spirits
Bid thee come to see and hear its
Melodies of gentle breeze, see
Spectacles of painted trees,
