A Letter to Jack Frost

Dear Mr Frost,

You must've known we'd hear the weather report.

That we'd get our hopes up.

Hopes of being snowed in and unable to make it to class/work/the library.

Hopes of reverting to our childhood (well, admittedly, some of us never left) and being able to have snow ball fights, make angelic shapes and have sleigh rides, along with other snow related delights.

I mean, some people, on the same island as me, even managed to make snow people.

So what's up with this?

What, by the time you came around to my area, your little snow elves got a bit tired?

Had run out of snow or something?! So you got them to go to the supermarket and get some odd icing sugar/baby powder mix and throw it everywhere on the ground, and you thought we wouldn't notice?

Mr Frost. This is not acceptable. I demand frosty frolics! Soft Snowflakes! Snow so thick one must wade through it! I'm wearing so much mismatched winter wear that I'm waddling about - and I kinda need a reason for it, you know?

Don't make me get out the pencil and draw a protest. Nobody wants it to have to go that far.

Yours,

A Disappointedly, Only Mildly, Snow Sprinkled Thing

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