Wintertale Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

A Winter Tale
I was going out driving to the shops and buy food, switched off indoors lamps,
only the grey winter light came in, and the living room looked like the depth of
a severe depression, the moment when you check your gun and sigh because it
is not loaded, and you will live a day longer.
I left the heater on low switched on a couple of side lights this gave the room
a cosy feeling. The room luxuriating in its own slightly seedy look, used furniture,
settee, chairs and a books shelve that is a picture of literary disorganisation.
It was raining outside I looked into my own room, had not drawn the curtains,
the room looked inviting and thought why should it have the privileges of
slow lifestyles while had to buy firewood and keep the room warm.
I was standing there, a foundling looking into a rich man´s house Christmas Eve,
with only a box of matches that, only paedophiles would buy. I need no newspaper,
joined my room switched on the TV, together we enjoyed a comfy winter evening,
that had the romance of apple strudel and Grimm`s fairytales.