Page Poetry

Snow day

Content Warnings: Before you click, you might need to know that this page contains references to lockdown, isolation and bad language.

Snow day   (2021)

You complain that you hate being locked in,
as you press your nose against the glass and watch
the world go white behind the mist of your breath.
Especially when the world outside is glistening,
glittering with the promise of possibility.
Especially when there’s so much to see,
you say.
You want to build a snowman, throw snowballs, shake tree branches bare,
skate on ice ponds, go sledding, catch snowflakes on your tongue,
there is so much to be done!

I just want to see the stars, feel the sun.
My mum told me that you shouldn’t see the New Moon
for the first time through glass. It’s bad luck.
So I haven’t welcomed in a New Moon month in seven years.
I just want the sky to be able to touch me again,
pressing a kiss to the top of my head as it whispers ‘welcome back’.

You break a window for me and stand, glowing with pride.
And when the storm passes I watch you draw patterns in the white
with your footfalls all day
and close the curtains at night.
Shutting out another New Moon that isn’t meant for me.
You scream like a horror movie with delight. You don’t know the difference.
I hear your yelping in my nightmares,
and in the morning you chime ‘at least I let the sky in for you!’
thinking you understand.
You skip out again, Wellington-booted and gloved.
I go back to bed. It’s freezing in here.




Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

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