Restless grey lifts a curtain of gloom,
hanging about like a thug on a street corner,
tarnished horizons wearing drab clothes,
ghostly silhouettes dance in the macabre wind.
Walls dribblingly weep endless damp,
squelchy mud remembers being dust,
drafty doors ceaselessly rattling, creaking,
festering fungi hides in forgotten places.
Roads give birth to potholes wallowing,
gullies gnaw away at fading pathways,
tree roots exposed as soil slides away,
stout stone walls crumble effortlessly.
A tedious winter month which drags time,
clouds ever pregnant with growing rain,
jingle bells and fairy lights now in the past,
the verdant landscape lies sodden, waiting.
Dark stains form, marking once white walls,
restless rust drips but never sleeps,
malingering mould puffs bulging paint,
dangling drizzle drenches, skies so leaden.
Night throws blankets of dark grey and black
woodsmoke dances, swirls in the bluster,
cold clammy clouds cling to shapes,
angry seas crash onto deserted beaches endlessly.