The snow was falling lightly on the pavement, the breeze of winter just settling,
A lamp stood in the middle of a small alleyway, covered in powdered flurry
You could still see the black pebbles that made up the passage.
From the days of sage, an oil lamp stood lit,
Treading carefully further, on came a door, it looked old, made just of oak
and a handle of gold. The center of the door bore carvings of a lion
intricate as it was, the creature looked calm, keeping a watchful glance.
Two excited fawns set in stone, held a covering in place
protecting its visitors from garish Oxford weather
Crouched over, yet unfazed,
owners and visitors always were greeted by their ever smiling faces,
Whoever lived here seemed to be
As kindly as the creatures that protected thee