It crawls away in retreat,

Slithering down into the drains and ground.
Slowly it drags itself forward,
scraping its icy fingernails into the soft mud.

Sunlight scorches its back
Burning holes into its once large body.
It splits into millions of patches
which cling to the little cold they have left.

Slowly they disintegrate
into small puddles
leaking into drains,
soaked up by hungry earth,

Drip, drip, drip,
All that remains is a small ocean of water
covering the earth,
dripping from houses, gutters, and trees.

Children splash in its puddles,
laughing and shouting,
memories of building snowman becoming distant and clouded.
Flowers and chirping birds have distracted their hopping minds.

In its defeat it whispers of its inevitable return,

A final cry of reprisal,
Just before the grass ebbs up through the softened ground and
Flower buds replace the sharp icicles that once hung form stiff branches.