by Colin Ward

Created on: December 06, 2008

I woke up in the morning,
And all was quiet outside,
A new day was dawning,
and I was just a child.

Throwing open the curtains,
all was grey and white.
The yard had been stolen,
by the snow in the night.

No time now must I lose,
so throw on all I can find,
breakfast only vaguely chewed,
least the sun might shine.

Free of chores then I ran,
into the quilted yard,
Picked up enough to fill my hand,

a squeezed it firm and hard.

I rested it in the pillow,
of the fresh virgin fall,
rolled it just a little,
into a bigger ball.

I rolled it and rolled it,
until it was as big as me,
And then I rolled a smaller bit,
to make a head for he.

Into his face, two screw caps,
So that he could see,
And a dried finger bap,
So that he could breath.

Then a plastic string of beads,
shaped to make his mouth,
so if he should be in need,
he could give a shout.

And there I left him be,
to wander the yard all day,
shake his booty for all to see,
for he was welcome to stay.

And when the day was done,
I bade him a good night,
But when the dawn had come,
He was more grey than white.

And as that day wore on,
More grubby did he become,
Then he became so dirty,
He started to soak up the sun.

His melting bade the end,
of someone so pure and bright,
someone who was my friend,
was now an upsetting sight.

I cursed the air I breathed,
for his sorry state,
I cursed the world they made,
beyond my garden gate.

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