3 December 2012

As the day grows darker,

The clouds begin to group,

The sky becomes all mottled,

A stormy, rainy soup.

The grounds are icy trappings,

The air so bitter cold,

You wear about a thousand layers,

Cloth like another mould.

You wish for nothing greater,

Than another day in bed,

Instead you've got to be somewhere,

So up you get instead.

Inside you a track's playing,

Uplifting, beating loud,

You think 'YES I CAN DO THIS!'

Ignore the icy shroud.

HeatherAnneIgnoring The Weather. • Opuss № I