The streetlight casts its amber eyes
over the Kendal mint cake snow,
compacted and snoozing under the glittered frost.
Fox footprints run away from me,
in dashing arcs and lines
telling me he had fun in the snow too.
I crunch towards the beach
where white chocolate buttons
are mindfully looking towards Kent.
The world is still sleeping,
breathing quiet mist
and singing a silent song.
The station is calling.
A train skims by,
untrustingly soft and hushed.
I walk underneath the streetlight
where it buzzes and clicks off,
as though solemnly obeying my cold mind.