Dear Winter,
Today was your last hurrah.
It was in the 80's.
I think that Spring already has you in a headlock.
I won't miss the drip, drip.
Houston pipes are fragile.
Your early darkness was a bore.
A total buzz kill.
You are a tease, Mr. Winter.
You promised snow. A rare treat for south Texas kiddies.
Instead, you left two measly icicles.
Cheeky, you are.
No, I am not sad to see you go.
Although, I must confess that I will miss the once-in-a-blue-moon-snow-day-with-no-snow, hot chocolate, and warm cinnamon toast on a cold, crisp day.
So long, Winter.
Until next year.