It's spring, but no joy can be felt
by my snowman. Once fat, he's now svelte.
   With each passing day
   he is shrinking away.

It pains me to watch the guy melt!

I know, of course, that he's not real.
My snowman can't think and can't feel.
   And yet to my mind
   it's hard not to find
he's been given a very raw deal.

I built him. I'm sort of his mom!
I molded his shape with my palm.
   But spring is too warm.
   All that's left of his form
is a picture on snowman dot com.