young and cold

open windows
to the cold
why do we
wrap ourselves
in layers
bundling ourselves
for what
better days?
as children
we were unafraid
to sink pink toes
into snow
to fling ourselves
into winds
that now
make us shiver
just to think
of them
we did not think
in sneezes
or sniffles
but ran
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
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


  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’.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s