Winter In Sweden Poem by Joseph Ikhenoba

We finally arrived on the bay in Stockholm.
After long nights across the Atlantic.
And wild bonfires of Umea welcomed us.
So relaxed.
The slapping waves slashed on pebble stones.
As if rehearsing it for a thousand years.
Then, snow drops gradually backed the night.
And, bellowing moose sounds pervaded afar.
I clutched it an alcove,
Before freezing to death.
How do the Swedes survive this brazen drops?
They are used to it,
I thought.
With a Swedish balls and a cup of coffee,
I drank myself to stupor.
Before the Koltrast calls.