Tender Years

Wet snow just for packing they say Friends all hyped, full of grins, on a cold day Four buddies daring one another to take aim The smallest one made the first throw Dodging and ducking trying not to be hit Snowballs bombarding each other in play Four rosy cheek boys all covered in white Within laughter, a sound of great pain The smallest one screamed a very loud cry A snowball hit him squarely in the eye Tears flowing, freezing on red streaked cheeks His glasses were broken, a nose bleed had he A snowball truce ended our wintry play All three of us walked him home, chattering away Today we sit together, thinner hair and a bit gray Watching snowballs flying by our children at play A memory we share, friends we'll always be By Connie Gildersleeve For Gail Angel's contest, "Tender Years"