A Winter Poem

I yearn for the long summer days

Lost in the frost of a cold winter haze

Mourning the weeks of lengthy hours

Begot by the bareness of wilted flowers

 

I sit my bum down at a fireplace

And wash the chill from off me face,

Now drinking down a pint of stout

Can warm the heart there is no doubt

 

To muse too much when winter’s here

Might shrivel up the festive cheer,

Best use these days but not to dwell

Nay wish upon a wishing well