The Trouble With Snow

MELLOW YELLOW

http://mellowyellowmonday.blogspot.com/

THE TROUBLE WITH SNOW

The trouble with snow, I've always found,

Is not that it lies there on the ground,

'Crisp and even' and all that jazz,

With the sparkling whiteness that it has.

The trouble with snow is not its falling,

Nor the traffic when it's crawling,

Nor the flakes that fly and flurry

In one's face when one's in a hurry.

The trouble with snow is it doesn't last!

It melts and dribbles all too fast!

No longer crisp and clean and woolly

It melts, but never, never fully.

The trouble with snow, it turns to sludge

And then sits there refusing to budge.

It fades to yellow and then to brown

As people tread on it in the town.

The trouble with snow, it turns to rain,

And that can be an awful pain!

It slithers and slops with the melting snow!

(I remember all this from long ago!)

The trouble with snow is it's fickle way

Of turning from white to yellow then grey.

That's why, because of the way it goes,

I'm glad I live where it never snows!

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KNOWING THE DRILL!

I lay there in the dentist's chair

 Looking up into his face.

It was, somehow, quite familiar,

 But one I couldn't place.

He was well-past middle-age,

 Bespectacled, grey haired,

A little bald, a little plump……

On and on I stared.

So intrigued was I by him

 That I scarcely felt the drill.

And when the work was done I found

 I scrutinised him still.
His mask was off and so I saw
His wrinkles and his lines;
He had a few whiskers in his ears,
One of males' aging signs.

Whom did I know of such an age?

 Where could we two have met?

Was he an old friend's husband

 I'd happened to forget?

'I think we know each other'

 I finally blurted out.

' Oh yes! We know each other', he said

 'Without a doubt.

Don't you remember me from school?'

 And I replied 'Ah yes!

We must have taught together
At Johnson Street I guess.'

I asked him why he changed careers…….

A moment seemed to pass.

Then he said 'I'm Billy Brown;

I was in your class!'
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