Tuesday 9th January 

It's cold, it's chilly 
In winter's grasp 
Sombre grey skies 
With a muted clasp 
Bare, brittle branches 
Stretch in silent call 
Hard ground beneath 
A frozen crawl 
Nature at a standstill 
In hibernation's hold 
A crisp, raw landscape 
That's stark and bold 

Love you so much 
Beloved sons 
Treasured Mum 
xxxxx