an elegy for British winter

Do you remember winter, friend
the way it’s meant to be?
The sharp wind, hard frost and snowflakes
like stars falling on me.

The slippy path in twilight, up
steep black refrozen ice.
But the sledge ride is so thrilling
I wouldn’t worry twice.

So get your hat and gloves on, son
you’ll catch your death outside.
Take a shovel to the pavement
and shove the snow aside.

And my memories pile high, look
pawprints across the park,
icicles from the climbing frame,
moon mirrors in the dark.

Oh to see my breath once more, please
puffing like a steam train
and to lie down in a snow bed
where an angel has lain.

But today autumn winds still blow
through deepest and green December
and we can fly
a warming sky
so no one need see summer go
nor have winter to remember.

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