35
White flakes float from
the white sky
and dogs are rough
housing with the kids.
I remember when Dad
confronted the neighbors
after their son had
bloodied my iced nose.
He was white with anger
and I was cold.
As I walk down the
street to the store
the neighborhood kids
are at it again,
living in the snow,
building snow houses.
I remember how the cold
didn't affect my young bones,
but now I'm old, and I
am making dinner tonight.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
