by Rachel Howells

Created on: January 02, 2011   Last Updated: January 11, 2011

I live in a snow globe and watch outside from within,
I'm unmoving, unspeaking and unable to spin.
There’s a cute little cottage and skating pond too;
I yearn to glide free, but it's not what I'm made to do.

Oh, what's the use of these skates that dangle from my hand?
The others trapped in here with me cannot understand.
They include a snowman, a Santa and polar bear,
All happy to stand stoic and still in the stagnant air.

But I ache for a hand to flip us over and shake,
To be sprayed by a flitter of bits, shiny and fake.
If not, I hope this wonderland falls and breaks,
And smashes to pieces in a flood of glittery flakes.

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