As the first snows of winter hit London town,
The Met Office said there’s more on the way,
In the East of the Country are hazards again,
As roads become slippery and icy in the rain.
It is also a pity, alas and alack,
That my boiler has stopped working,
And it’s cold in my flat,
When will it be mended, I do not know,
As I have problem with finance,
And that is a fact.
I know I prefer the air to be cold,
Then my muscles work better, I am told.
Heat relaxes muscles, especially for me,
It is problem for Myasthenics, you see.
If my room gets much colder
I’ll have to think some more,
Put a heater on to warm it,
Lest I be frozen to the core.
A cold or pneumonia is not what I wish,
To bring in the New Year, as cold as a fish.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 27 December 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem