{16/01/2013}   An I-am-not-remotely-a-poet poem about a snow day

At 3am, in case of snow,

Look out the window, see it blow;

A bit of white,

At night so bright.


When morning comes and trains should run

The thought of snow becomes less fun

For “cancelled” and “delayed” you see

On platform signs flick’ring at thee.


Now how to spend this waiting time?

Update your status; a Facebook whine.

Your fingers may be frightf’lly nippy

But get your post up ‘n’ make it zippy.


There’s always hope to have a snow day

For getting home there could be no way.

For hours you could wait like a veritable mug

With clothing that won’t keep you snug.


This point of feeling nowt but brrrrr,

You understand why Russians wear fur.

You look around at slush and ice

And no longer think that snow’s so nice.


When home you get, ‘bout three hours late,

You can’t help but think that snow’s not great.

But next day comes, more snow-no work

Out in the park you run, you laugh; you go berserk!


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