So this is me reading one of my poems.

Not the best poem, but the one I wanted to read this time.

I hope you enjoy it :)

I smiled at the snow one day

and I realised that it smiled back at me,

all sparkly and glittery

under the full moon that inhabited the dark lit satin skies.

It was the not the middle of winter,

and quite not the start,

that wonder of the end of November

when tart apple pies weren't being baked just yet,

but families would huddle around recipes

written long long ago,

when grandfathers and grandmothers were

young and wrinkle free

and huddled by the fire sneaking glances

because holding hands was not allowed.

And I wondered as I passed by them,

the houses,  not the days of auld,

whether the history in them was the same history

across the world,

whether human life was the same whether on Jupiter or on earth,

and as I walked by a couple of homeless men

sitting under the tree,

catcalling for liquor, you see they just wanted to say hi,

I didn't let them try to do what they wanted, instead

rushed away,

and forgot all about the magic of the snow

as I glimpsed his face in that dirty truck,

waiting to pick me up

so that we could go break bread together.