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