Poem: Flowing Stars by Steve Hodgson
Flowing Stars
Such a spectacle is made of the snow,
With eyes aiming eagerly at its whispering flow.
Out of place, on earth, it becomes a great slush,
Waiting patiently for small feet to crush.
Winter's virtues revolve in such frost,
But eventually in time, all memories are lost.
These sparkling splinters of heaven's grace,
Lull all onlookers in its glistening lace.
Universal happiness is found in such fallen stars,
Until corrupted and bruised, by passing cars,
A curious warmth is laid in this nation,
By ordinary snow, and its condensation.
How many could wish, it would a moment longer stay,
For an hour or week and even a day.
When the paths are left bare all that's left is a chill,
And the roads grow so empty, the air becomes still.
Steve Hodgson
Orton Goldhay
The full article contains 142 words and appears in Peterborough ET newspaper.
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Last Updated:
27 March 2008 1:11 PM
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Source:
Peterborough ET
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Location:
Peterborough
