Bleak, in a way, eh? Bleaker than the day 

Which slips up to the windowpane and splurges

“Yuck. Look at me, a deep rich miserable grey

Repressing spiritual and profane urges.”

Be off. The more the weather yucks, the warmer

Our deep snug, furry and bright home becomes

Begone dull care too, though you blow a storm, a

Fire fills the hearth, a kettle hums – 

Symbolic maybe, and yet you and me

With love look forward to our cup of tea.

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