That Was a Winter
Jazz was made for snow, don’t you think?
A fairy tale concussed; a brandy cream.
Most people like a little—just enough
to put their blowy worlds to sleep.
I kissed someone in December once,
our lips met and it snowed—I’m serious.
That was a winter for bedding down to love;
though jazz was not for us.
This actually felt like jazz rhythm to me. 😊
The word once rhymes with the word concussed in this poem. They're not in the right places to rhyme, nor do they really sound the same. And yet they rhyme. This is magic!