Angela Wybrow (Salisbury, Wilts, UK)
A Snowy Day
I sense an unfamiliar brightness, and very soon, I'm awake.
I go to my window, which is covered with tiny snowflakes.
As far as the eye can see, there's a carpet of pure white:
It's a magnificent and beautiful, but still rather rare, sight.
People pull on their patterned, designer, Wellington boots;
Icy footprints in the snow, mark out the well trodden routes.
Children play in the snow and build a snowman;
They build him up as tall, as they possibly can.
Everything looks so very different when covered by snow;
Suddenly, you're not too sure where your feet should now go.
I love to walk through the parts, where snow is undisturbed;
Even though I now can no longer tell the road from the curb.
There is now a real lack of distinguishing features,
And a noticeable absence of warm-blooded creatures.
In the sunshine, the snow, like tiny diamonds, glints;
Its delicate surface now peppered with animal prints.
The coldness makes folks' cheeks all pink and rosy.
Most stay inside, where they are all nice and cosy.
Children on a sledge whiz down a long, steep hill;
They seem to know no fear and have nerves of steel.
Wheels on vehicles suddenly now slide and slip;
Road surfaces, they suddenly can no longer grip.
On busier routes, the snow soon turns to sludgy slush.
In this weather, not a single soul would dare to rush.
Some folk hope that, of the snow, there'll be no more,
And hope that this carpet of white, will, very soon, thaw.
When I look out of my bedroom window that same night,
I notice that the world around me still seems quite light.
Over the next couple of days, the snow turns to ice;
It now is all discoloured, and doesn't look so nice.
Finally, we have a whole day of really heavy rain,
And, of the snow, not a single flake now remains.
Comments about this poem (A Snowy Day by Angela Wybrow )
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