Winter Dreams

An early morning walk to work on sparkling silver frost - so cold, with random flakes of snow that landed, then were lost. I saw the gold and red of dawn in bands across the sky, but then I had to close the door (as always, with a sigh). I wondered if the snow would last; if icicles would form, and men would dig snowdrifts with spades... Inside the shop was warm! But when I left, the paths were clear; I felt the cold again. No winter wonderland for me: the snow had turned to rain! written 3rd December, for Shadow's Winter poem contest