Filthy, thick smog and bitter cold, <br />fills my mind when I think back to childhood. <br />Our noses would be black with it, <br />our lungs clogged with it. <br /> <br />Worse of all was the zero visibility, <br />a mugger's delight and a child's nightmare. <br />We would walk in groups, with torches, <br />trying not to trip or fall. <br /> <br />Inside my bedroom, ice would form on the window <br />and outside I'd see stalactites <br />hanging like daggers, <br />so beautiful. <br /> <br />Each winter we'd freeze and shiver <br />with only one small coal fire to heat <br />a two up, two down <br />terraced house. <br /> <br />I used to wait for the coal man <br />by the alley near our gate <br />He'd blackened hands, a dirty face <br />and a big broad cheery grin. <br /> <br />I often wondered why he smiled <br />though didn't dare to ask <br />as his life seemed very, very hard <br />but then, I was just a child.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/smog-2/
