by Margaret Hillert
The sun came out,
And the snowman cried.
His tears ran down
on every side.
His tears ran down
Till the spot was cleared.
He cried so hard
That he disappeared.
"A book is a golden door, through which you can glimpse another world, or live a thousand lives in one..."
by Margaret Hillert
The sun came out,
And the snowman cried.
His tears ran down
on every side.
His tears ran down
Till the spot was cleared.
He cried so hard
That he disappeared.