Covid Snowchild

That winter of snow

there was nowhere to go,

so grandad was left on his own,

he stood and he froze

from his carroty nose

to his toes- and he felt all alone.


But on one moonlit night

grandad woke to the sight

of a snowchild, they had a cold cuddle,

which so melted his heart

that here’s the sad part-

all that’s left of them now is a puddle.

Previously Published at Dirigible Balloon


David Bleiman

David is a grandfather and poet living in Edinburgh. He loves to write across the languages and his first pamphlet, This Kilt of Many Colours (Dempsey & Windle, 2021) is a multilingual mixter-maxter in English, Scots, Spanish and Yiddish. This celebration of David's Jewish heritage includes the prizewinning Trebbler's Tale, written in a partly excavated but largely reimagined lost dialect of Scots-Yiddish. With the sense of humour of an overgrown schoolboy, David is now writing childish poems for himself and other children.