I watched the snow fall last night
And awoke to chrystal white, packed against our cabin.
The cleansing smell of snow.
The sound of silent brightness.
Southern snow, a rarity.
Fifty-eight years ago, school was out for a week.
In my young mind, heaven had arrived on earth.
Days on end, Linda McDaniel and I played until the skin on our faces burned.
Homework free, we played.
We flew on our sled
down the long sloping yard of the town grump.
He did not emerge from his mansion.
I wonder if he secretly smiled at the sight of us from his window.
Fifty-eight years later, I sink my bare feet into the depths of blinding whiteness and wish I could fly down old man Sanderson’s yard.
This poem will bring back memories for many. I grew up in Hong Kong where there was no snow, but this brought back memories how my children played in the snow. I came to Canada and got married. My children were born in Canada.
Sandie
Reviewed by D. Vegas (Reader)
Reviewed on January 11, 2011
Janet, We are all in this together.
'We are the World'. Simply written
and 'down to earth' poetry.
Always,
Deborah
For me, having a friend of another color is kind of exciting. I live in a mostly white area, so there's not much opportunity for mingling here. I have friends who are black on Authors' Den, though, and I'm especially happy about that.
Other than that, I like the poem and the plain facts it contains, that we are very much alike on the inside.
Connie
Being best friends is not contingent on race, religion, age, social standings or for that matter anything other than making a heart and soul connection that lasts forever....
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Sandie
'We are the World'. Simply written
and 'down to earth' poetry.
Always,
Deborah
Be always safe,
Karen
Other than that, I like the poem and the plain facts it contains, that we are very much alike on the inside.
Connie
fee