Sunday, 12 March 2017

Winter Blues

The wailing winter wind that blows a gale
Sweeps like a brittle brush scouring the land;
Rendering the autumn forests frail,
And anything else that comes at hand.

At the helm is Jack Frost, fearless and brave:
Advancing behind him a force of snow and hail.
Some of the elderly will come nearer to their grave –
Soon to be just a photograph, a memory, a tale.

Outside the window there’s a tap.
Old Jack is back.
England groans at that familiar sound
And falls down on her knees.

Like a light which takes away the dark,
What we knew before has now grown stark.
Good on the eye but cold on the feet;
Autumn’s goodbye as winter we meet.

Tap, tap, tap –
Old Jack is back.

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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