I wrote this three years ago – look, you can see it in situ here.
It’s not bad. Blimey. OK, it’s not Wallace Stevens, but I, astonishingly, don’t hate it. So you’ll have to read it again yourselves. I insist.
No snow, no frost, again this year,
No ice nor sleet nor hail;
The south-west wind brings in the rain,
The rain brings in a gale,
And twinkling Santas, reindeer, stars,
Strain against their ropes -
Not dreams of warmth and food and light,
No need for self-same hopes,
No dark, no cold, no starving night,
And this not one bright jewel,
No candle held for sun’s return,
No hopes to dash – oh, cruel -