Early Morning
I stepped out early on a winters morning,
Still half asleep and quietly yawning.
The street lights cast a yellow glow,
That fell upon the virgin snow.
Lights coming on in houses,
As I walked the silent streets.
I took pleasure in the crump,
Of untrodden snow beneath my feet.
The cold air bit at my face,
Sharp as a butchers knife.
A pristine morning to myself,
A wonderland, of snow and ice.
Soon enough, the streets will fill
People going to and fro,
But for a while as they slept,
I revelled in the snow.
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