Snowman, Snowm’am, What’s your Name?
Donna Mann
An old man said to a boy one day,
“Would you build us a snowman?
I’d be glad to pay?
He could sit on the front yard of this place
and bring a smile to everyone’s face.”
The boy agreed and said he’d try
to make a Snowman wide and high
“It won’t be hard as the snow’s just right,
to roll and pack him nice and tight.”
The old man smiled, “It’ll be such a treat
for those driving up and down the street
He’ll look just like a watchful guard
and he’ll be our Home’s calling-card.”
A few days later, to the resident’s surprise,
a snowman stood so tall and wise
at the Seniors Home, high on the lawn,
everyone saw him at the break of dawn.
The teen-boy called his new friend Mate,
though his face looked like hardened slate
“Oh, I wish you’d grin for these good folks,”
the boy began to ask and coax.
"The seniors’ would like some happiness.
But you have a case of nastiness.
I don’t know what makes you look like ice.
I’d like to teach you to be nice.”
The teen-boy asked some friends to assist
and they began to make a list.
“He needs some eyes, there are things to see.
He might even come to like you and me.
We’ll make him happy with stars in his eye,
right now he looks like he wants to cry.
We can’t have that, let’s give him a chin,
surely that’ll make him happy and grin.
And what about a nose and a nice wide mouth?”
They got the wood and a carrot out.
A scarf, a hat, and basket they’d add.
Nothing helped—he still looked sad
“He needs some arms,” a nice man said.
“He’s got lots of love to spread.
But, he can’t do that until he smiles.
Love doesn’t come when he’s looking hostile.”
“I’ll give him arms.” A boy was quick.
“I’ve just the twigs to do the trick.”
The little crowd waited, but nothing yet.
The Snowman still seemed quiet upset.
“What’s his name?” said a voice from behind.
“A perfect one you’ll have to find.”
“Is it Norman, or Henry? Maybe Herb?”
The snowman still looked quite perturbed.
“Is it Marylou? Jane? Maybe Sally?”
The snowm’am blinked . . . she began to rally.
“Do I see a smile?” a woman fussed.
“I do think she will grin at us.
Sally, you are! Sally, you’ll be!
All you wanted was a name . . . to be free.”
THE END
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