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.