The Trabant in Snowy Prague

In Prague’s old heart, where history breathes,
Through snowy streets, my Trabant weaves.
A relic of the past, in shades of grey,
A journey unfolds on this winter’s day.

Beneath the spires, where echoes linger,
My Trabant hums, a nostalgic singer.
Through winding lanes, where tales are told,
A canvas of white, the city unfolds.

In whispers of snowflakes, secrets untold,
Prague’s mystique in each story, it holds.
Trabant’s engine purrs, a rhythmic rhyme,
As cobblestone streets freeze in wintertime.

Past ancient bridges, by the Vltava’s flow,
My Trabant glides, a ballet in the snow.
Casting memories on each frosty pane,
In Prague’s embrace, a timeless refrain.

Through castle shadows and narrow lanes,
My Trabant journeys, where history remains.
In a snow-kissed waltz, with the city in view,
A poetic ode to Prague, my journey anew.

The Mole and the Trabant

In the heart of Czechia, where snowflakes dance,
A mole embarked on a journey, a trance.
Behind the wheel of a Trabant, so small,
Through winter’s embrace, it bravely crawled.

In tunnels of white, the countryside unfolds,
A mole in a Trabant, courageous and bold.
Fields of frost, a pristine delight,
As the little car cruises through the night.

Snowflakes whisper secrets in the cold air,
The Trabant and mole, an inseparable pair.
Through hills and valleys, a magical ride,
In the Czech countryside, with snow as their guide.

Headlights cutting through the wintry veil,
A mole at the wheel, leaving a snowy trail.
Furry chauffeur in a world so divine,
Driving the Trabant, a masterpiece design.

Through the Czech winter, a whimsical chase,
The mole and Trabant, a picturesque embrace.
In the snow-kissed landscape, a tale to be told,
Of a mole’s adventure, in a Trabant, so bold.

Changing Seasons

In the closet of seasons, a swift, sudden turn,
Summer’s light fades, and winter begins to churn.
Dilemma in fabric, a choice to be made,
As warmth retreats, and cool winds invade.

Shorts and tank tops, once carefree attire,
Now seem out of place in winter’s cold mire.
Hoodies and layers, a compromise sought,
In this dance of transitions, memories are caught.

Leaves crumple and fall, a seasonal blend,
In the mirror, reflections of choices to mend.
A wardrobe’s canvas, where decisions align,
In the clash of the seasons, a compromise shines.

Scarf and some layers, a balance is struck,
As summer surrenders, and winter runs amok.
In the tapestry of clothing, a story unfolds,
A dance of transitions, as the weather foretells.

Changing Times

In summer’s warm embrace, we basked with glee,
The sunlit days, so carefree and bright,
But now, the winds of winter swiftly flee,
And darkness claims the early hours of night.

As leaves turn gold and crimson, falling slow,
The world transforms, in colours all ablaze,
Yet in our cosy homes, we soon must know,
The clocks in every room must change their phase.

But oh, the task of remembering them all,
From kitchen to the hallway, one by one,
As time slips by, we hear the chiming call,
To set the hands to greet the frosty sun.

In this transition, seasons bid farewell,
From summer’s warmth to winter’s cold embrace,
The ticking clocks, their tales they’ll surely tell,
Of time’s unceasing march, at its own pace.

Sunny February Morning

Having been outside doing some gardening, I can no longer feel my toes despite the pleasant sunshine. Today’s challenge for ChatGPT was to write a poem about this. I quite like it!

It’s a sunny February morning,
The world is bright and warm,
But despite the golden dawning,
I can’t feel my toes or form.

The chill has settled in my bones,
And crept beneath my skin,
Despite the cheerful sun’s warm tones,
I can’t thaw from within.

My feet are numb, my breath a steam,
As I trudge through frosty grass,
The world around me is a dream,
A world of winter’s icy grasp.

But though my toes are frozen stiff,
And my fingers numb with cold,
I find a joy amidst the drift,
A joy that warms my soul.

For though the world is icy-cold,
And I’m bundled up and slow,
I find a peace within my soul,
A peace that makes me glow.

So though my toes may ache and throb,
And my fingers tingle numb,
I’ll revel in the winter’s job,
And the beauty it has done.

Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash

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