Something About Snow

I feel them.
Cold but warming.
Inside my pockets.

Inside my pockets,
I play with loose change.
While in my mind deciding...
Whether to make a snowball,
From fresh snow.
Or should I go sit in my car...
Kept running.

I remember as a child,
I would love the snow.
I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.

I take my hands out from my pockets.
I feel the heat released by the change!
I hide behind a tree.
People walking do not see me.
I hit one with a snowball.

I remember as a child,
I would love the snow.
I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.

Those days have passed.
I can not run so fast.
Today I drive.
Hopefully not to be recognized.

I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.

There is something about snow,
That leaves an impact!

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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