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!