The basic idea is to write a ten-line poem in which each line is a lie.
I LOVE THE SNOW.
I haven’t seen enough of it this year.
To wake up to snow on the ground–
and to have it melt and then turn into ice–
was pure bliss.
Who needs sun? I’d rather have cold.
Losing all feeling in my fingers and toes is an inexplicable form of perfection.
Forget Spring, Summer, and Autumn…
I’d rather have Winter.
The cold never bothered me anyway.