Daily missive for Wednesday the 30th of November.
Sugar coated
Mornings
Silvered threads
Winding through
The tired green
The crunch of crispy
Icing
As grass glistens
In the white light
Of a winter sun.
Old trees with
Copper boned fingers
Rake the sky
As the dew rises
A low mist hanging
Over marshland.
Walking alone
Icicle tears
Steam powered breathing
Suffocated footsteps
Muffled against
The frost
As the first blast
Of warning sounds
In the tingle
Of stiff little fingers
Time to wear gloves
And long socks.
Suffer the children
Who were stitched
Into underwear
Wore hand me downs
And blankets
Covered in hoar frost.
Is that what it is like
To live on a narrow boat
No romance in freezing.
Dew drops on noses
Are only funny
In retrospect
I suspect there
Will be sorrow
This Christmas.
Leave a Reply