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Sunday Morning

Arise the morning’s velvet glow.

When through the mist, across the snow

rays of purple, red and green

offer up the golden sheen

of diamond sparkles cloaked in white

that shepherd out the depths of night,

suggesting warmth, forthcoming hope

to all that from their slumber grope

to still alarm bells, stretch and yawn

and stumble out into the dawn,

for car, or train or bus or walk

without a wish to read or talk.

Just focus on the tread of feet

slip and sliding down the street

through the drifts, around the slush,

white blanket over sounds that hush

the noises that we know so well

soft cushion round the steeple bell.

that whispers now all folk to hear

enter here in all good cheer,

some pass by wrapped from the cold,

the feeble, fit, the young and old.

Eyes still fixed upon the ground

on to the shop or homeward bound

with paper and milk by the litre.

Settle down, a choc’late eater

pen poised over crossword puzzle

dog on lap, wet nose and muzzle

a choc’ for you then one for me.

Now it’s time for a cup of tea.



Noel K Fletcher


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