A WINTER's WAIL

 

Warm it isn't now that winter

beckons with chillier breath

and the windows clouding up

is a sign that Mr Frost has made

his bid to intervene in places we

know best - for those of us with

homes as snug as toast, it is a

time to think of them owning but

 

a mere mote and dip into a pocket

for some pence - for one time in

our earlier life we knew the feel

of pauper's needfulness, although

were blessed to live a better day

and happier opportunities arrived

as if by starlight from the firmament 

a meteor crossed our luckier paths

◄ U TURN

BOLLARDS ►

Comments

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Philipos

Fri 30th Oct 2020 21:07



Stephen, your kind remarks as ever appreciated.

Obliged.

P

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Stephen Gospage

Fri 30th Oct 2020 17:26

Yes, we should be grateful for our "luckier paths". A fine poem.

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Philipos

Fri 30th Oct 2020 08:45


JD, thank you for commenting.

I know there are likewise kind people on WOL, who do this anyway - but I often try a prompter poem such as this, just to remind myself as much as anyone else.

It saddens me to see gaunt looking girls on substances heading to the car par parks with grimy guys, just to earn a fiver for a quickie.

Blessings.

P

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J.D. Bardo

Fri 30th Oct 2020 00:53

I have read this several times over. I remember being homeless the winter of 1983. I have had a warm house every winter since. I often give my last dollar to someone in more need than myself. maybe that is why the furnace stays running. thanks for reminding me I am blessed.

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