As I walk within this shakin' snow globe,
I look around for a part in the snowy vale.
The street lights cast their beams,
Found by the shimmering flakes.
Down the street I go,
edged on by the smell of warm apple cakes.
I peer forward to see only white.
I think to myself, "this will be a long night."
Smack, I hit my head on wood.
I reached down because I knew I should.
I turned the handle just to find,
my mother staring, with cakes behind.