Dreams of Snow

He dreams sometimes of Ballarat, the hills all raw from the mines, the pale dust from the slag heaps drifting on the wind before it comes to rest on the garden which is his world.

More often he dreams of the circuitous journey that his father promises will take them "home to England" and of volcanic ash falling from the sky, carpeting the ship with white softness, like the winters out of story books.

And when he dreams of London the snow is always warm, falling in great fat feathers from eiderdown clouds to settle softly across the slumbering world.



( The prompt from Watson's Woes today was a picture. )

Dreams of Snow

He dreams sometimes of Ballarat, the hills all raw from the mines, the pale dust from the slag heaps drifting on the wind before it comes to rest on the garden which is his world.

More often he dreams of the circuitous journey that his father promises will take them "home to England" and of volcanic ash falling from the sky, carpeting the ship with white softness, like the winters out of story books.

And when he dreams of London the snow is always warm, falling in great fat feathers from eiderdown clouds to settle softly across the slumbering world.



( The prompt from Watson's Woes today was a picture. )