Frosted morn and a winter born In darkness and a snow-white gleam Truly it was not so much snow-white As whitest of snows and snowiest of whites Oh it was really a winter to be seen.
Then the beasts slept eternal peace And the trees-leaves were nowhere to be seen Void-like darkness came to play it’s game Wicked and cruel, It thought it’s time had come to rule
But the light had not truly died It had but for a moment, with a humble bowed head, Then rose from it’s grave to a new day and wonderous new ways…
The heavens soared and the nations roared The King of wake who had really first made, The smallest of daises and merry-faced ladies The meekest of men and even sillier still times ten and ten!!!
The dawn then arose, a scribe in painting A word as a bird, Sent to another, Or rather as a third. Brilliance and glory, the world’s very own lovingly made story.
So ends the days, but in the merriest of ways Only after that frosted night of cold-delights, sinking those who did not see the dusk would be shunned, a great sadness … and yet our True King has finally come.