The night is chill
with wind to the fill
The cold is a kill
with the snow on the hill.
Waiting out till
expecting the car coming uphill.
Shivering in the cold still
thinking of the bills
that have to be paid without frills
Looking through the gate grill
saw a wind mill
with movements nil
There came flying a quill
falling 
down the window sill
With that the car came uphill
got in and went downhill
Meenas Poems 