Remembering back to when we in all innocence we enjoyed the simple things that Christmas brought us.
Deep as yet un-trod
Gently it swathes
Trees and ground
Falling snowflakes
Cover paths and sod
Unsullied the white blanket
All around
Children appear
Dressed in coats and hats
Crafting big balls
From the drifted snow
Shaping a snowman
With deft taps and pats
His buttons are coke
Placed in one long row
A large red carrot
For his nose they find
In his mouth
A broken pipe they place
Around his big fat neck
A scarf they wind,
An old yard broom
His official mace
Enjoying the downhill thrill
On an aged sledge
Hearing not their mothers
Loving but earnest call
"Best come in my loves"
"For its time for your bed"
Still the snowflakes
Incessantly fall
Children tucked up asleep
In their snug little beds
Are awoken by an eerie light
A faint swishing sound
Looking out the windows
With apprehension and dread
Reassured that it's only the snowman
Sweeping the ground.
The snowman sweeps with his mace
Throughout the night,
The scene to the children
Appears neither strange nor odd
Picture the sight
Come the first morning light
The virgin snow unsullied
As yet un-trod
13th November 2005~AVW
Poetry by Albert
Read 1158 times
Written on 2005-12-24 at 09:51
Tags Christmas Celebration Children
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The Virgin Snow
The virgin snowDeep as yet un-trod
Gently it swathes
Trees and ground
Falling snowflakes
Cover paths and sod
Unsullied the white blanket
All around
Children appear
Dressed in coats and hats
Crafting big balls
From the drifted snow
Shaping a snowman
With deft taps and pats
His buttons are coke
Placed in one long row
A large red carrot
For his nose they find
In his mouth
A broken pipe they place
Around his big fat neck
A scarf they wind,
An old yard broom
His official mace
Enjoying the downhill thrill
On an aged sledge
Hearing not their mothers
Loving but earnest call
"Best come in my loves"
"For its time for your bed"
Still the snowflakes
Incessantly fall
Children tucked up asleep
In their snug little beds
Are awoken by an eerie light
A faint swishing sound
Looking out the windows
With apprehension and dread
Reassured that it's only the snowman
Sweeping the ground.
The snowman sweeps with his mace
Throughout the night,
The scene to the children
Appears neither strange nor odd
Picture the sight
Come the first morning light
The virgin snow unsullied
As yet un-trod
13th November 2005~AVW
Poetry by Albert
Read 1158 times
Written on 2005-12-24 at 09:51
Tags Christmas Celebration Children
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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