Short and sweet. One of the things I’ve utterly failed to grips with, on moving south, is the lack of winter. I mean, being from Yorkshire, I’m used to deep snow in winter and a general demeanour of carrying on however deep it is. No weather is getting in my bloody way! I’ve been here for 25 years and everyone panics at the first three flakes of snow that don’t even settle. I was on a bus once and it started snowing. The bus driver panicked, slammed the breaks on and called back to base “What do I do?” he shouted, “There’s a blizzard.” By the time he got his response, the ‘blizzard’ had ended. The roads were a tiny bit damp and there was no snow to be seen.
This brief poem is about how much I miss the cold and snow.
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