End of Term
You shovelled the snow
an alibi for waiting at the gate
until I came home
fresh from university
with one of those totem scarves.
You blushed with pleasure
but couldn’t look up
when my lift dropped me off
your frozen spade
searching for snowflakes.
Sally Michaelson is a full time conference interpreter in Brussels and mum to a son and daughter. She writes poetry in her spare time and has been published in Lighthouse.