BY LAWRENCE “MACK” HALL

Pale, wintery-grey and cold, diffuse and pale

Light falls upon the pages of a book

Its words unread – the snow may come this hour

Between a noun and verb, a glance, a look

Pale, wintery-grey and cold, diffuse and pale

The figures of our story now pause for us

Impatient for their journey to proceed

But through the window waits another tale

Pale, wintery-grey and cold, diffuse and pale

Light falls upon the pages of our lives