by Nick Gisburne
When Annabella Winterbottom woke to face the day
She loved to run around in pink pyjamas and to play
But hers was not a morning chasing unicorns, oh no
This time, when Annabella pulled the curtain, she saw snow
She scrunched her little eyes up tight and looked at it with awe
She’d never seen the snow in all her years (not many – four)
So Annabella ran to ask her mother, who said this:
“I’ll let you play outside in it, but first I’ll need a kiss”
With gloves and boots and hat and scarf and layers stuffed beneath
She giggled as the cold air put a chatter in her teeth
And stomping like a tiny giant, up the path she went
To fill the yard with footprints was her serious intent
Quite soon, it seemed, she heard her mother shouting, “Grandpa’s here!”
And Annabella Winterbottom gave a chilly cheer
She dashed inside the kitchen with her hands piled up with snow
If anyone could solve this winter puzzle, he would know
“Oh grandpa, is it magic? What has made the world so white?
Did fairies bring it, like they make the flowers and the light?
And why is it my cheeky cheekbones tingle with the cold?
I always ask you first because you’re very, very old”
While grandpa scratched his hairy chin, he pondered on a thought
“When I was young, no bigger than a goblin, I was taught
That snow is spread to catch the flying snowmen when they land
And you, my dove, have pieces of their pillows in your hand”
She gasped and threw the snow (or what was left of it) outside
Her plans to help the snowmen measured twenty grandpas wide
Their carpet she had trampled, but resolved to make amends
If snowmen came to visit they would need some little friends
“I need a snowman family so they can come to stay
Like mother, only better, and with not so much to say”
Her mother whispered, “That’s my child?” then louder, “Love you too”
But Annabella pointed at her grandpa. “I need you!”
“You go ahead,” said mother, “I need something from the shops
But don’t do everything she says, she really never stops”
He smiled and sighed, “I’m in control.” Yet in his heart he knew
That grandpas always do what Annabellas say they’ll do
She pulled him to the garden, to the land of ice and snow
“I need three heads, about this big. Go on then, grandpa, go!”
And while he rolled the snow up in a rounder, bigger ball
She gathered twigs and sticks and piled them up against the wall
“You’ll need some coals for eyes,” he said. “A carrot for the nose”
A hat, a scarf, and buttons from his belly to his toes”
“What do you think we’re building? This is not some kind of man
We’re making giant spider dogs, the best way that we can”
Her grandpa said, “Ahh... spider dogs, I really should have guessed”
And wondered if this darling child might be some kind of test
She stamped her foot and pouted as she sent him back to work
But wandered off, while in his mind the doubts began to lurk
“Is that a...?” Oh dear me, it was. A long and slim device
She pushed the black remote control in sideways, smiling. “Nice!”
“Well that’s the mouth and teeth done, so I’ll need to find some eyes”
Poor grandpa kept on rolling. “That should be a nice surprise”
“I got these from the bathroom, not too long and not too thick”
She bashed assorted lipstick tubes in smartly with a brick
“A hairbrush makes the perfect nose.” So that is what they got
“And dried spaghetti hairstyles.” Was she joking? She was not
“I think we’ve done enough now, sweetheart, let’s go back inside”
The worried grandpa wondered if he ought to run or hide
But Annabella Winterbottom said, “Just work, don’t talk”
“I’m trying to decide how fast a spider dog can walk”
Each leg was now a branch she roughly twisted, bent and shaped
While on the whole creation dustbin liner bags were draped
She pulled more branches from her stash to make each dog a nest
While grandpa worried if she’d had her senses repossessed
“They just need names.” Arms folded, she inspected them with pride
“That’s Reaper, this is Dead Bone, and the shy one, Demon Tide
The snowmen won’t be lonely now. Each one can have a pet
Thanks grandpa, that was fun, and mum will love it too, I bet”
The car crunched up the driveway, back from shopping in the cold
And somehow grandpa suddenly felt very, very old
“I’m home!” called mother. “Sorry, someone stopped me for a chat
Have you been good? Oh, holy f***ing sh** balls! WHAT IS THAT?!”
She swept into the garden as a storm raged in her eyes
And grandpa now regretted never making a disguise
Three angry looking spider dogs, remote controls for teeth
Gazed up at them with lipstick eyes, a hairbrush nose beneath
Their legs were poised; it seemed they might escape at any time
And that was grandpa’s new regret – if only he could climb
But Annabella Winterbottom’s heart was filled with joy
“The snowmen will be coming soon. I hope we get a boy!”
“Inside,” said mother’s gritted teeth. “Don’t want to catch a chill”
And grandpa’s final, deep regret – he hadn’t made a will
“My spider dogs will guard the house!” proclaimed the gleeful child
She left to change, but mother slowly locked the door and smiled
The war, one-sided, short and sweet, was very, very loud
With mother talking, grandpa not – who fights a thundercloud?
But families must get along, hostilities will cease
And once reminded who was boss (the women) there was peace
So Annabella slept that night with one thing on her mind
She dreamed of what the snow would bring, what magic she would find
And walking on the winter clouds, beyond the freezing fogs
Three snowmen flew above the house, with three young spider dogs
