My mouth hung wide open, gasping at this strange out come of what should of been a luxurious stroll in the shadowing park, until I came across what every child wants to make in the winter; snowmen. It wasn’t just ordenary snowmen, no, the first one was gazing down at its own snow angle in the foot deep crystle snow! The other, however, was lying in it, almost like it was paused mid flow of glidding its twing made arms and legs around to form a snow angle. There to big raven coloured, topped off with snow, top hats wobled in the now gentling wind, apon there miniture planet like heads. They wore patenned scaves, sharred at the bottom and had been carelessly thrown round what they had as a neck. All this reminded me and took me back to my childhood days playing in the much beloved snow; sledding down the bigggest hills we could find and so on. I must of closed my eyes whilst I let my imagination run wild like a pack of hungry wolves, because when I’d openned them the snowmen had vanished with no trase to be found! How peculiar: well the hole day has been a bit.