The solitude had been broken,
Snow and ice not a mere token,
White blanket crisp and deep,
It was early morning the village asleep,
From her window the girl sang,
"Snow snow faster aly aly asta",
Rub your irons with ice,
For a fast sledge ride that's nice,
Icicles hang from the gutter,
Frosted ferns on the window
Block out light like a shutter,
The ice inside is like life's pattern.
Every flake is different, in life this does happen,
The boys hear a noise it is the coal house door,
Dad lights the fire ice drips to the floor,
Off to the Sledging Hill they go,
The little boy said,"It's a long way off you know",
Big brother said,"put your wellies on right",
Dancing sun through the trees made everything bright,
When the boys and girls finally get to the top,
They jump onto their sledges slide and can't stop,
Take off at the bump but it does not matter,
They head towards the stream,
Was this just a dream.
Terry Colley. December, 2009
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