The ice lay in wait for me.
skulking on the brick steps;
so many ambushes laid before me,
Life's like that: we're all waiting
for a fall, never just plain sailing,
it could seldom be that easy, could it?
Ill winds whisper in a wooded copse, where
evil forces forever conspire, the future
an amalgam of promises, bleak prophesies.
Christopher T. George