The snow falls thickly on the ground,
Covering the streets of London town,
And slipping and sliding across the road
March countless faceless people,
Bent and cursing the skies.
But amongst them a child slips and falls,
Sticks out their tongue, throws snow in the air.
Alone in the crowd they do not despair,
For in youth they care not about snow,
Or where they’re supposed to go –
They relish the world, and thrive in the whiteness.
It has snowed in London. It is very cold. I apologise for not posting yesterday, but unfortunately other things, not entirely unrelated to the weather, got in the way. My apologies.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic