Poems by Bettina Van Vaerenbergh

Snow is falling, as quiet as a mouse;
On people and on dogs, and on our house.
A fluffy blanket now covers the street -
The cars are white, and that is neat.

Quickly I dress and run a comb through my hair.
No time to lose, there's magic in the air.
School's off, so I've got all day -
To go on adventures, to roam and to play.

Mama is in the kitchen, baking pancakes -
But I'm not hungry, I want to catch snowflakes.
And just when I have so much to do;
She's got scrambled eggs and bacon too.

With a sigh I sit down and empty my plate;
To venture outside I can hardly wait.
The garden looks pristine, and oh so inviting;
My very own Wonderland, how exciting!

Mama has a pair of furry snow boots for me;
To make my footsteps extra crunchy.
The moment has come, I step through the door -
I'm going where no man has gone before.

I'm an astronaut, my space rocket has just landed;
It ran out of fuel, and now I'm stranded.
How will I survive in this alien, white place?
There's so many dangers I bravely must face.

This planet has ferocious, flesh-eating chickens;
And a poisonous fog that slowly thickens.
The tiniest hole in my outer space gear
Means certain death; it's my biggest fear.

The temperatures here are far below zero -
If I make it out alive, I'll be a superhero!
I gather all my courage, and I set out to explore;
Until I'm so cold I can't go on anymore.

It's slowly getting dark, and the wind is howling.
My nose has frostbite, my stomach is growling.
Then mama calls, on earth it's time for dinner -
And I hurry back to base camp, feeling like a winner.

The woods are ablaze with golden light,
And the sky seems painted by a child
In the deepest blue, an impossible hue.

It's a festive explosion of colors so warm,
With red-yellow-green-brownish charm -
Of leaves swirling by, a feast for the eye.

People sitting on benches, enjoying the sun.
Children skipping and running, having fun.
It's peaceful, this moment; perfect, blissful.

Myriads of leaves are floating on the pond.
Memories are made, happy and fond
As the cameras click on the selfie stick.

No need for a scarf, or mittens, or a vest;
And winter, that feared, unwelcome guest -
He's nowhere near, still miles from here.