A Backwards Look

Through the window,
From adult to child I go.
Heaps of leaves,
Piles of snow.

Delicious howling winds,
Chapped lips, runny nose.
Rosy cheeks,twinkling eyes,
Frosty fingers and toes.

Castles of wood,
Snow tunnels and forts.
Fighting foes, ammo abounds,
Snowballs, what sport.

Skeletal elm and willow,
Leafless arms, icicles dangle.
Skates, skis, toboggans too,
Hill or street, just the right angle.

Glance to the window,
A welcome glow.
Fosty edges with winter's snow,
Tongues stuck to metal poles.

Fire with crackling wood,
Feather smoke in blending sky.
White carpeted lands glint,
Pale stars, lonely moon hang in darkening sky.

Crisp sounds whisper,
Warmed breath caught in chilled clouds.
Sheeted ice crackles under foot,
Gangly dances abound.

Mittens, gloves and scarf wet,
Boots and coats packed with snow.
Friends bound for home,
Inside cocoa flows.

Hot bath, the body warm,
Ladles of soup complete the chore.
Off to bed, the tired worn,
Tomorrow will even the score.

Through the window,
Back once more.
Adult I am now,
A child no more.

The feelin of loss is woe,
To think my child should know.
Age has longings,
For days long ago.


Ed Williams

©