See http://365project.org/terryliv/365/2016-12-16
While we were away, poor old Frosty got rained upon and was washed away. Only this small blob of snow, his nose and those spindly arms remained
Oh dear poor Frosty. Reminds me of a poem I read as a child.
I made myself a snowman
As perfect as can be
I thought I'd keep him as a pet
And let him sleep with me
I made him some pyjamas
And a pillow for his head
Then last night he ran away
But first he wet the bed.
I made myself a snowman
As perfect as can be
I thought I'd keep him as a pet
And let him sleep with me
I made him some pyjamas
And a pillow for his head
Then last night he ran away
But first he wet the bed.