Atmosphere

 Atmosphere

if I were tO it to anything I suppose It would be snow.  That moment of wonder When you open the curtains on a morning And find that the whole world is under compare New conditions.  Everything unwritten And laid out with a brilliant innocence, Every unsightly blemish neatly hidden Beneath a moment that seems to be synchronous With happiness.  But it never lasts, as we know, And soon it starts to melt down to slush: The old dark world rising up from below To lock us back into its inescapable crush.