The Snow Angel

First a shimmer then a sparkle of white,

A noiseless drift illuminated by the night.

Young me was swaddled in a blanket, watching the first snowfall of the year.

I wiped condensation of the window, leaving a smear.

Smoothing snow into weapons that hurt,

As my mother screamed to come inside, her voice hoarse, but still so curt.

"Get in the house you'll catch your death you know."

But I was too busy running, defiling the virgin snow.

In my closet hung untouched designer clothes and hats,

As at that age, I remained inside engaging in unproductive chit chats.

Too proud to be kissed by parents or have a cuddle,

But still shed a tear when Mr. Snowman became a puddle.

After a long day at work, I could barely stand.

The despised, freezing weather had scolded my hands.

It held up traffic. It caused delays.

The only delight was in the extra pay.

But then I grew old, even duller than before.

I've seen so many many snowfalls, but I can't feel them anymore.

My legs they failed me, I became bed bound.

My ears were useless, I couldn't hear a sound.

Even my throat closed up. I couldn't speak.

I wanted to scream but I could barely squeak.

But the snow still fell, every year it came.

It never lost its magic. it always stays the same.

My body had forgotten how to live, only how to survive.

But when I gazed at the snow I couldn't have felt more alive.

I admired the wintery weather,

No snowflake was the same

The snow as my surrounding,

The snow I soon became.