Cold

Much rubbing of hands and stomping of feet
Breath steaming up and watching the heat
As it lazily drifts to the cold dark stars
On the way home from cafes and bars

Multiple jackets, we find gloves to keep warm
Hats, scarf and boots soon become norm
Less space on the train as we huddle as one
Michelin men on the seat by the ton

We grumble and moan, with lots of “brrr”
But secretly like to feel wool and fur
And the feeling of sitting again by the fire
As the carols ring round, as sung by the choir.

The bit in between can be damp dark and sad
But the on-set of winter makes me quite glad.