On the way into town,
The eyes of the old man light up as he sees the untrodden snow.
Smiling with the enthusiasm of a child,
He gathers it into a loose ball
And playfully throws it in my direction.
I catch his wonder.
We’re never too old to be excited by fresh snow.
The fire engine drives slowly down the snowy street,
The little boy waves
And a fireman waves back,
Making his day.
The Orange 26 crawls down the hill
To the junction with the main road.
Careful, no room for a slip here.
The main road is level
But, in slow motion, the Orange 26 follows the Blue 16.
Stately ships steaming across a white topped, grey sea.
In the shelter the people wait for the Purple 17.
Reaching town, the buses join the mosaic of colour,
Travelling slowly through the falling snow.
But the train cuts through at speed,
And the blizzard of the world outside passes by my window.
It’s going faster,
With time to make up after delays;
Severe weather in the west,
Congestion outside Reading,
12 minutes late leaving Reading,
5 minutes late into Paddington,
7 minutes recovered! Result!