young and cold

open windows
to the cold
why do we
wrap ourselves
in layers
bundling ourselves
away
for what
better days?
as children
we were unafraid
to sink pink toes
into snow
to fling ourselves
wide-armed
into winds
that now
make us shiver
just to think
of them
we did not think
in sneezes
or sniffles
but ran
runny-nosed
with the rest
of the red-cheeked
snow-suited troops
open windows
to winter
and thrill
to the chill tickles
of the delight
we once held
in ten-foot forts
and endless piles
of white-balled
ammunition
the sweaters
layered socks
and stupor
of space heaters
will wait
at the back
of the closet
for when we are old
and truly
weary of cold

© Sarah Whiteley

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5 thoughts on “young and cold

  1. I LOVE this poem. Takes me right back to childhood, and bridges the gap to where I am heading day by day. There’s a lovely cadence to the lines and the words. Beautiful. Thank you for writing it!

  2. Mmmmm…. very well observed (and felt), Sarah. There’s a narrowing of focus as we get older, isn’t there? We forget how it was to experience things for the first time over and over again as children do. I wonder at what stage the repetitive first time actually becomes identified as something to leave behind.

    I still look at things with something of the eyes of a child, but I’m also guilty of forgetting and sinking into complacency of ‘older age’.

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