Thursday, 14 December 2017

A million fingers of ....

A Million Fingers Of... ❄️ 

Snow of course can offer a slight,
To one who looks heavenly, 
To the white sky.  

Tobogganing in his minds eye. 
Whilst the flakes drift on
But not settle at all 

The worst of them are those that come at night. 
But by the morning’s rain 
Only disappointments remain. 

The deep desire to see all four climes
Without venturing to the tops of mountains 
 As distant as those North of London

And to not want to be bypassed
By the year’s savagery 
To feel that sting of a well thrown

Soft and slushy 
Wet and sticky 
Well you know what I mean 

That want to grind us to a halt
Our old country that in our novels
Immortalised the white Yule. 

A Dickensian time of happy poverty 
When now our cars sputter 
And struggle to climb.
When now our newspapers headline,
The frozen homeless,
Our elderly neighbours all alone. 

And when we can safely
Cheerfully,
Disdain from our work. 

But snow too, is great in a fight. 
It tends to blanche all misdemeanours 
And for one day, make us forget

The everyday drudge that is, this life.

Shafeesthoughts 
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