I got up this morning, another ordinary day.
I looked out of the window, everything looked grey.
I looked half an hour later, and snow was falling,
everywhere was being blanketed in white.
Seeing it on the bare branches of trees and shrubs,
transforming them into a picturesque sight,
I thought - how beautiful it all looks.
Yes, I like snow.
But then, it became time to go out in it,
and I began to have second thoughts!
Beautiful as it still looked, I became nervous of walking on it,
afraid of slipping, of falling.
Aware of all the practical problems it causes.
No, perhaps I don`t like snow after all!
Isn`t it strange how one can have such contrasting feelings on the same thing?
I suppose I must be a romantic deep at heart?