Winter

“I’m reclaiming Winter!” Gran announced with a smile
I wondered: I hadn’t seen her in a while
But Granny was always so young and so spry
There didn’t seem anything she wouldn’t try.
“So Winter is lost - it’s missing, it’s gone?”
I decided to humour my Granny along.
But to my astonishment she nodded her head
At the truth of my words I had only just said.
“That’s right – just you look: just listen to me!”
I gazed through the window, but all I could see
Was rain, cloud and fog – not a sunbeam in sight
The day was so dark it could almost be night.
“So what do you mean?” I wondered aloud
“How could it be lost? Winter’s always around
these dark days ‘fore Christmas. We’re longing for snow
to cheer up our spirits and help the days go.”
“That’s right!” said my Gran, “That’s just what I mean
This dull dreary weather should never have been.
I’m ordering snow through this website I’ve found
So before you all know it, while I’m still around
There’ll be white stuff galore to cheer us all up.
Now, who’s going to help make the Wassailing Cup?”
So saying, she wandered away with a smile
I wondered: I haven’t seen her for a while
Not since I awoke to a snow sprinkled morn
Where, standing in splendour outside on the lawn
Was a wonderful snowman – or lady, I’d say
With a smile on her face and a hatful of hay.
“Yes, Winter is here now,” said a voice in my head.
But oh, what a pity, that Gran is now dead.

With sympathy

Words cannot express
the depth of Sorrow
where Life meets Death.
May you remember
with Joy
in your pain.

Winter lament

I know it is Winter: it’s dark and it’s cold
it plays up me rheumatics now I am old.
But still, all the same, I just can’t accept
the cold and the grey and the eternal wet.

What’s happened to Winter? To tell you the truth
it’s nothing like Winter was all through my youth.
First we had autumn, with glorious leaves:
huge windy days and frightening trees.

Then the gales started. Nights black as sin.
We cuddled by firesides, ate crumpets, stayed in.
Till suddenly waking one day with alarm
‘cos outside the house ‘twas unnaturally calm.

Oh the lightness and brightness of wonderful snow:
we dashed out the house with our faces aglow.
We whooped and we danced and we sang out for joy
oh, snow was our uttermost favourite toy!

And so Winter began: the snow came to stay
as our constant companion all through those days.
Our world stayed quite white, frost rimed my nose,
my fingers, my mittens, every one of my toes.

But I didn’t care: no, none of us did.
No longer cared we that Summer was hid.
Oh bring back old Winter, who cares if we freeze?
It’s better than sitting in wet to our knees.

A fireside tale...

Stockings hung in the fireplace; the table was set;
mince pies were all ready, as I was, and yet
something was wrong: something didn’t feel right
as I stood at the window and gazed at the night.
My stomach was twisted and knotted inside.
“Where is he? He’s late. Something’s happened!” I cried.

Outside, the wind roared and the branches they blew
as the rain lashed the windows and drove a chill through
all the house as it wept in the gales and the storm -
though inside all looked cosy, comforting, warm.
I ran to the phone: picked it up; useless, dead.
Thoughts and anxieties swirled through my head.

The lights flickered and dimmed; a candle blew out.
I started, jumped up, looked all about,
but all seemed so normal, the outside was fine:
the turmoil that battered could only be mine.
Unable to sit, I paced over the floor
from sofa to window, from table to door.

Nothing could calm me, my terror had swept
all reason and order right out of my head.
I flung the door open, ran out down the path
Above the wind was the sound of a laugh.
I found him out there, collapsed on his side.
I knew that something had happened. I cried.

Disappearance on Christmas Eve

The day had drawn on when my Mama announced
She had to go out: and so off out she flounced,
Leaving us children to fend for ourselves
My mama went off with a party of elves.

And how do I know? Well, I’ll tell you the tale:
I know, when you hear it, I’ll see your face pale
When you hear of the horrors my mama endured
To ensure that our table was laden with food.

It was Christmas: outside all were merry and jolly
as they chattered off home with their fir trees and holly.
But our pitiful house was filled only with fear
of starvation and cold and a miserable year.

Mama had just fed us our small bowls of gruel
when, stripping her apron, she said, “what a fool
I have been! Just stay here and wait for the morn:
be sure that at Christmas you won’t be forlorn.”

Then stepping outside, she waved once, and again
and out of the darkness, the cold and the rain
there appeared an old farmcart, filled right to the brim
with elves: wearing green, and with face-splitting grins.

“You’re welcome!” they cried as Mama stepped on board
“We’re needing a meal.” Then, grabbing a cord
they tied her up tight, as trussed as a hen
and laughing quite evilly, vanished again.

We wondered, we worried, but what could we do?
‘Our Mama knows best’ is but all that we knew.
We slept as we huddled together that night:
the next morn we awoke: but oh - what a sight!

The table was laden with meat, cheese and cakes,
puddings and pasties – all manner of bakes.
I never did hear of the horrors endured
to ensure that our table was laden with food.