By Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)
I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I'd keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first it wet the bed.
Given the warming trend in Livingston, Montana, my guess is this kickball will be bald (of its snow toupee) and sitting in a slushy puddle by early afternoon. Which might be, ummm, awkward for a human, but not for a kickball.
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