Winter Ode Number Two
The power keeps flickering.
Don’t mean to be bickering;
Just glad that it keeps coming back.
True, the clocks keep resetting,
But what’s far more upsetting:
When a pump room becomes an ice pack.
The timing’s ill-chosen,
For the pipes to be frozen;
When it blinks, there’s an ominous hush.
If this trend’s not reversing,
There soon will be cursing;
Without water, the toilets won’t flush!
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