Winter Blahs

Snow, it's time you and I had a talk. You're cold. I admit sometimes I like to watch you fall--it's peaceful and serene and yes, beautiful. It's fine on a Saturday night, but why, oh why do you drop by on  Tuesday morning? I grab my shovel and attack but you're falling so fast you've covered all my tracks.  My car does not like to drive on you, either; he's a beast, but when he's with you he loses control and then I am late for work. I think it's time we parted. It's been days and you're still here, turning gray and ugly but hanging around like an unwanted guest. Why won't you melt?