“It’s snowing, again, oh well, it’s winter!” Gun Roswell
Oh winter, oh winter
Don’t think I am bitter
But to be honest
I wish you to be gone-st
I really loved you at first
Now I am dying of thirst
Of a summer that is
So hear me please
And be gone!
“Something about the snow perhaps, makes it different?” Gun Roswell
Outside it’s cool and crispy
The clouds are hanging low
It’s just another day in January
With quite a lot of snow
Sitting in my home office
The images quite flawless
Admiring the window views
In my hand my favourite brew
“Winter outside cold and harsh, alas inside, is the warm and cozy” Gun Roswell
Cozy window view
In winter’s interlude
If the other knew
This house
Would be crowded!
“Sometimes, it snows outside in Winter” Gun Roswell
Close to night fall
The sun about to set
The moon coming out
Time for a nap
Before the next day
Begins
“The snow, makes all the difference, don’t you think” Gun Roswell
It was once again that time of the season, when for some reason
The expectance of having some much needed snow on the ground
Even if the weather forecast predicted it was nowhere to be found
But those hopeful ones, who dared to wish and upon a star dish
Their deepest and most sacred desires, before they would expire
And so, as the night time once again, like every day, on time fell
Some of the fans of winter, remained seated, by the window sill
And all of a sudden, all their wishes were granted, to the very hilt
As the solemn flakes of frozen ice, across the chilly air, were spied
And where there was one, soon enough, more would definitely follow
Leaving the autumn, grey dull coloured ground anything but hollow
And in the early morning hours, gleeful the cheers of big and small
Were heard where ever anyone looked out of their windows small
The snow had finally landed, and the season just got a whole lot grander
“The weather is always at its worst, on Mondays, oh how I don’t like Mondays or was it, just winter?“ Gun Roswell
The green of the soggy ground, soon another kind of cover found
As the soft white of the snow, today, made its early and neat bow
The Monday kind of grey, soon turned to a ride in an old school sleigh
With odd sounds filling the airs, in the form of some kind of cheers
This day of mundane, was turning out to be, a very special type of day
And maybe, just maybe, that is thanks, to the now growing banks
Of this cold and white powder of substance, all over and everywhere
But not saying this out of despair, even if it really, is not that rare
To have all that snow, all over the floors, at this time of year, so near
To the favourite of all seasons, and that being the most and only reason
Putting up, with all this huff and puff of the white, now making the outside
Picturesque, no less than it was a few moments ago, or even yesterday
When the whole world was covered, in total non fashion kind of grey
So, welcome oh dear snow, hope you will bring so much fun in tow
But remember to melt away, as soon, as the winter’s sun hits play!
“It’s just rain, right?” Gun Roswell
Weather, thou art a heartless bitch
Oh you deceitful heartless wench
Pouring your cold rain for us to drench
Tiny drops kept smiling
All the while you were cunning
The plot most foul and cruel
Changing us from fun to gloom
Summer how ever long it stayed
Has finally shown it’s ugly face
Weather as cold as can be
Puddles of water
For our flip flops slaughter
As far as the eyes can see
Gone are the days of wonder
What is beyond there
Maybe some sun shine?
Oh that would be just fine!
But oh dear weather
Thou certainly art a heartless bitch!
“I don’t think I can ever get tired of the scenery outside my window” Gun Roswell
Window view – the imaginary scenery
The many lands, the foreign vistas, the great unknown and all the open possibilities
For the exploration, to what ever lies outside, these empty and dull suburban streets
Behind the frames of this view, ever changing, but still, mostly, the same remaining
Window with the most perfect view, at least in my mind, leaving me feeling, never, ever blue
As I sit at the sidelines, in my usual comfortable seat and think of the open wide
World, just at reach, at least, in my mind, out there, outside, I cannot help but smile
As I gently lull myself into a dream state lazy, and then travelling to all the places
Wherever my own imagination dares me to carry, smoothly, never in any kind of hurry
Having always the perfect amount of time, to explore, to see, to feel, to live in it all
Even if it is never, well really, quite real, it is still, a trip or sorts, out there
Never leaving the comfort of these walls of my sombre home, still, never really alone
Not at least, when visiting these, far away lands in my mind, for the perfect scenery to find
“The winter weather never ceases to amaze the onlooker, the changes happening on an almost daily bases, from warm to cold and snow to sleet, and this only during one week” Gun Roswell
The views ever changing
The window view is never boring, the scenery always and forever changing, while every day bringing something new to see, the many faces of winter some say is way too fleeing a season, even if it seems to be lasting forever at least from the point of view of the viewer, having seen nothing but the varied stages of sleet, snow, ice and the same all over again for several months on end. But the scene set before the large frame of the glass, seems to still have something new to show every day passing, whether the sprinkles of ice frozen there until the plus degrees causes them so melt and instead, the trickles of water form patterns changing for each passing moment. So, guess there can be no complaints of why and how long the winter here will stay, at least not to those enjoying watching the views from the warm and comfortable inside, even if there is a snowy winter mess out side waiting to be explored, that is if you dare to take the trip out there, maybe find out even more of the changes.
“The reflections from the inside out and outside in, all coming together in a perfect mix“ Gun Roswell
The Looking Glass
The perfect view, from here to there and back again, the thin glass the only divide between, separating that which is here on the inside, to that which remains on the outside
Equal are they all in time, no matter where those left might reside, the reflections, as they are not there to divide, rather parse it all together, into a common guide
It’s all setting the scene, that not all as it was it seems, but whatever you want it to be, so do not trust your eyes, rather feel, the universe around you as nothing, is real.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 