The Snow is Coming (An English Village) A boy of eight, Hand clutching his younger sister's in a ball of warmth. An excited anticipation. The sky darkening over the peaceful village. He pulls his coat tight against The winds that promise snow, Wriggling his toes in thick socks And curling fingers in comforting gloves. Look! he smiles, the first flakes falling, Settling on bobble-hatted heads and coating eyelids, Eyes sparkling with life. The flakes fell heavier, Painting green fields to instant white. The snow falling as instant memories, A time of delight and happy play for winter to come. The beckoning warmth from the glow Of the kitchen window And smells of freshly baked cake Mixed with his mother's cry, "Come in now, you'll catch your death out there." But the snow spared nothing, Slowly obliterating the familiar and remembered to a featureless blank. But still they smiled, Shivering in the pleasing cold. The snow is coming. The Snow is Coming (A refugee camp, Syrian border) A boy of eight, Hand clutching his younger sister's frozen fingers. A fearful anticipation. The sky darkening over the noiseless streets. He pulls his threadbare coat tight against The winds that promise snow. Wriggling his toes in worn socks And curling cracked, frozen fingers into useless pockets. Look! he scowls, the first flakes falling Settling on bare heads and coating eyelids, Eyes darkened by life. The flakes fell heavier, Painting street dust and concrete to instant white. The snow fell as instant fear, A time of dread and silent prayer for winter to come. The dying warmth from the faint glow Of the pitiful fire outside their cramped tent And clouds of smoke and sadness Mixed with his mother's cry "Come in now, you'll catch your death out there." But the snow spared nothing, Slowly obliterating memories and lives to a featureless blank And still they cried, Shivering in the penetrating cold. The snow has come.
_____________________________________
How different lives can be. For some the snow brings fun and excitement and happiness. For others it brings fear, hardship and sadness.
Refugees living in squalid tents facing a harsh winter in a camp. They tend to be forgotten as we rush towards Christmas. They should be remembered. They should never be left out in the cold.
