It was dark, it was black.
It was as if it was night.
It was as if all the light
had got scared and took flight.
If it wasn't for streetlamps and
car lights and such
you really, to be honest,
wouldn't see much.

But of course you would know,
if you had seen such a sight,
that it was really quite late,
and it was, in fact, night.
If your wrist had a watch
and you'd looked at the time,
you'd see that it was
just after nine.

(PM that is.)

Various things added to the scene,
like low mists and stark sounds
and that kind of thing.
Only starlight was missing,
but that was allowed
you see 'cos the sky
was covered in cloud.

There were stratus and cirrus
and cumulus and some
that didn't have names
and were just tagging along.
There were big clouds
and small clouds
and thin clouds
and fat,
then there were
white clouds and
then there were black.

And up there, up there,
over to the east,
a king among clouds -
almost a beast
as it rolled and it rumbled,
almost alive,
which it was, in a way,
though you'd never guess why.

(Cumulonimbus
was this cloud's name,
but what makes it so special
isn't the reason for its fame.)

If you could lift yourself up,
or perhaps even fly,
and appear in that cloud
in the wink of an eye,
then make yourself small,
the size of a full stop,
you'd find yourself in
the world of the snowdrop.

You may laugh, you may jest
and you may even mock
when you hear all about
the life of the snowdrop.
But really it is a serious matter,
a snowdrop's life is not a platter.
OK, so they don't live that long,
but while they do,
dark things go on.

They live in fear, oh dear, oh dear,
so don't pretend you do not care.
Their lives are filled
with nervousness,
as each new day brings a new test.

('But why? But why?' I hear you cry.)

One among them stalks alone.
One among them has no home.
One among them has no heart,
and laughs as he tears lives apart.
The other snowdrops shrink in fear
as one among them draws so near.
For they know
nothing can stop
the dread Abominable
Snowdrop.

Through their cities, tall and proud,
crashing through the fleeing crowd,
crushing, stomping, each word a howl,
it storms past smiling its own dark scowl.
Snowdrops' homes,
once fine and white,
fall beneath the monsters might.
Gardens that were once so nice
crumble beneath its fist of ice.
Yet the snowdrops turn away,
saying nothing,
there's nothing to say,
as they know
nothing can stop,
the fury of
the Abominable
Snowdrop.

So short is a snowdrop's life,
their years pass by in a single night.
It seems to them this reign of terror
goes on and on
and lasts forever.
Some escape and fall to Earth,
a last chance leap
for all they're worth,
they drift along on breeze and wind
not knowing what
this course might bring.

But others still decide to stay,
the leap a risk they dare not take,
Though they know
what staying means -
that they might fall
upon their knees,
beneath the monster's
rumbling roar,
and they might be
no more.

They stay, they stay,
they cannot go.
They search for a way
to defeat their foe.
In vain, in truth,
for nothing can stop
the grim
Abominable
Snowdrop.

If your wrist had a watch
and you'd looked at the time
You'd see that the sun
was just about to climb.
The sun and the snow
do not really mix,
and the mix might just get
them out of their fix.

It would, of course, mean
the end for them, true,
but the end of the beast
means an end to fear too.
So, as they stand together
no sadness is felt
as their city of ice
is beginning to melt.

Up there, up there
the rumbling fades
as the moon disappears
and the night becomes day.
If you listen closely
you'll hear a faint cheer
as what's left of the terror
comes stumbling near.
At last they can once more
be peaceful again
as the panic that plagued them
comes to an end.

They realise, of course,
that it won't last that long,
but they don't really mind
and they find nothing wrong.
It's enough to know that
something could stop
the, er, slightly mushy
abominable snowdrop.