Frosty just fell over again. Frosty the Snowman, that is.
The wind gusts keep knocking him on his molded plastic ass.
Actually his rotund side and his face.
So far his orange carrot-like nose is remaining intact.

Above Frosty’s head, my windchimes play a lovely melody.
Could be the Snowman’s eulogy if the wind blows low and long.
At least he will go out with a song.

I am fond of Frosty but I am in love with my windbells.

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