Phil's Spring to My Winter

Phil's Spring to My Winter

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 2, 2014 @ 4:25 PM

You rose from your foxhole, you damn Phil!

You saw your silhouette, and we'll stay cold,

Six weeks thither down the ol' calender's hill:

I suppose you'll laugh, and I see you rolled!

You damn Phil! Oh, how we'd all like to kill

For a little sunshine amid opened windows,

But you foretold the Old Man will pop a pill

Till the diamond fields and green grass grows.

Phil, this is your spring and I am amid winter!

I can't see past that blizzard's manifested sea.

With the nine inning's on, the yard's my center,

And then you'll hide your nose as you shall plea.

Damn it, Phil! Say you'll go back home please!

A week of sunshine we'll have for just a bit,

Until the next week, Jack Frost'll square to hit

Our nose, so cold, as the freezer in my home,

As I pray to once again visit my garden gnome.

The flowers cry for a splash and her sun, but

They'll not see such two or her one, the glut

Phil, that furry rodent who we all'd like to kill

Shall live to see that silhouette amid you shill!