'Twas that time of the year again When the moor was smothered with a blanket of vampire-white snow. The mangling winds flayed the trees outside And the fire inside felt like melted butter on the dermis. The pale crescent of winter hung solus in the gravel-grey sky. Minuscule drops of dew rested on the leaves, Perhaps jaded from their odyssey to the Earth.
'Twas that time of the year again, When children awaited the chipmunk-cheeked man on a reindeer sleigh. Odours of roasted chestnuts mildly caressed the nose. 'Twas that time of the year again, 'Twas wintertide again.