By James Bates


The boy loved the icy winter,
And playing in the snow,
Sledding and building snowmen,
Snowballs for him to throw.
One day he awoke quite ill,
Confined there to his bed,
His best friend Bob came to visit,
And panicked he’d soon be dead.
“No,” the father calmed him, “not my only son.
Not on my watch he won’t.
This sickness will soon be done.”
He thanked Bob for his thoughtful visit,
And waved to him goodbye,
Then turned to his boy and hugged him,
Wiping a tear drop from his eye.
“Don’t you ever leave me,”
The father pleaded and held him tight,
And stayed watchful right beside him,
Throughout the cold dark night.
In the morning his son awoke,
Feeling chipper and bright and gay,
While his father gave a joyful shout,
For Bob to join them on this happy day.
Later on that glorious week,
While playing happily in the snow,
The boy turned to Bob and said,
“There’s something you should know.
I really didn’t mind being sick,
But when all is said and done,
I like being outside much better.”
And turned his face up to the sun.

2 thoughts on “Winter Sun

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