Look out of your window and see for miles,
none of your mist and snow that piles
up the walls, covering the tiles, blanketing
our fairweather, sunshine smiles.
Scarves, hats, gloves and macs,
now festoon the hallway, jumble the racks.
I dream of golden shafts of light
Along the sun's bright, golden tracks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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