When winter breezes chill the air,
I sleep in my long underwear.
And if there isn’t any heat,
I keep my stockings on my feet.
I climb into my freezing bed
with fuzzy earmuffs on my head.
The reason it’s so cold inside:
Mom opens all the windows wide.
Text © Bruce Lansky reprinted from If Pigs Could Fly...and Other Deep Thoughts, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.
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