Troika

Our Poem

Necks arched with pride ready to run,
Over wilderness glistening in pale winter sun,
Powdery snow tossed with each stride,
As gently held they pranced side by side.
The Troika gliding with infinite ease,
As it leaves the forest and sheltering trees,
The sleigh bell rings out in the white silent world
As the wind whips a snowflake like smoke breath is curled
Tracks icy blue where reindeer have been
Until the mantle of Spring will change the scene.


Verse by Mary Lascelles