The parts of the snowman fell from the lined sky.
When the five kids assembled him, he became alive.
They made his cold heart feel really warm inside.
That the boys and girls were happy cannot be denied.
They gave him two small pieces of coal for eyes.
Then the snowman was able to see far and wide.
He considered his carrot nose a welcome surprise.
Why he had a comb for a mouth, you can surmise.
The temperature went up; he melted down out of sight.
But the fine memories he left behind feel so right.
Parts of him may return as dancing fireflies
Or as delightful rainbows uniting earth and sky.
Ron Larson is a retired community college professor (Ph.D.) and has had both fiction and non-fiction published in various journals over the years. He has been writing poetry for the last two years. His poems have been accepted by such diverse magazines as The American Dissident, Big Pulp, and WestWard Quarterly.