Breath congregates like candyfloss before my eyes
And grass appears dusted by icing sugar
In this midwinter slumberland
That greets me at my door.
The gate creaks as I creep out into the morning
Gingerly, like an ice-skating tightrope-walker.
The age of steam has dawned again for me
As I venture out with train engine breathing,
Chugging on, disaster just a slip-slide away.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.