A Slice Of Winter.

A Slice Of Winter.
By
L.M.Robbins 
The roofs are dusted in winter's dandruff.
Cool, cloudless is the sky.
Old folk become penguins as they shuffle
across the slush of slippy streets.
Cars inch forward in lowest gears,
Pluming clouds gunning from exhausts.
Kids play, don't feel the cold, none wear
hats, scarfs or gloves.
Throwing snowballs at each other,
A blur of red cheeks and spent breath,
A testament to innocent fun.
I pass all these as I return home,
A spectrum away from innocent or youth.
Shuffling like a penguin, but in my heart, a kid.