Yesterday’s porcelain
glaze of frosted snow,
A pale sun veiled in gossamer
mists,
Childhood joy at all
this, for some, persists,
As does the
disappointment of the thaw.
Not sun, but rain
proves to be the traitor
Washing away so many
sledging hopes,
So the sister sighs
while her brother mopes
Having been told, “Not
now, perhaps later.”
Such is the lesson
that’s never learned,
No matter how
convenient the cause
Delay cannot postpone
the melting snows:
An abandoned sledge
is the moment spurned.
Spring will come soon
enough, then many will say,
“I’m looking forward to
a summer’s day.”
Dave Alton