At least 4 inches deep and growing,
Enough for a snowman, snowballs and sledging
Rushing to pull on wellies and leggings.
Happy hours before all their stomping and grumping
Ruining our magic, stopping our squeals
Spoiling our crashes, spreading their ashes,
Couldn’t get their cars up our silvery hills.
By Caroline Whalley
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| © Caroline Whalley |
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