The sky glistened a winter grey,
Beckoning children to come out and play,
The snow so thick it draped the fields,
Ignoring the fact the grass was concealed,
Windows were covered in glass dew drops,
With ice clinging to the soaked crops,
The bitter winds that fought human flesh,
Though making the air even more fresh,
White roofs and the houses very pale,
The cold bringing on a gale,
Snow falling like stones in water,
Whilst telling tales of a farmers daughter,
The fireplace lit up and roaring,
The stories of old getting boring,
Now it is time to retire to bed,
All stops inside the imagination of ones head.