The Abominable Snowman

© By Tess Hurson

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There in the hill the snowman stood
Built tight against the invading hordes;
Blunt as a Dutchman in the Transvaal
Blindeyed and lonesome, a sentry for the King
Bound round his neck is a child’s orange scarf
He squints, mindless plaything of the tiny gods,
Icon for the neighbours who silently read in
His making a poor enough look-out.

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