The morning at the ville*

The morning at the ville
Like a picture still
Oft I think I see
Where just after Autumn
Came the winter with glee,

The arterial road running through
The village always had a view
To find milkmen cycling to
The nearby town and men who
Took to the road, waited like statues
Beside the road, beneath the tree,

The morning at the ville
Like a painting still
Oft I think I see
Waking up after an Autumn
To the winter's glee.

(*Note: loosely based on a painting as attached done by John Fernandes, titled 'Winter morning' .)

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