A poem about discovering the joys of a new world. |
He came from a world where winter never existed. Throughout his young life he had never seen snow, never enjoyed the same wintry joys of childhood as I, of catching falling snowflakes with my tongue, lying on my back in the snow and spreading my arms and legs to make snow angels, battling friends in snowball battles, building forts and snowmen wearing baseball caps and cheap sunglasses, and riding down snowy hills on a sled, with the icy wind at my face, having the time of my young life. One day while on a smoke break at work, it began to snow. He stood wide-eyed and awestruck as we watched the flakes fall quietly around us, covering the grass and the cars in the parking lot beneath a soft white blanket. "This snow?" he asked with what little English he knew. "Yes, it is." I replied, smiling. I then envisioned him years later, with a family and children of his own, catching falling snowflakes with their tongues, lying on their backs in the snow and spreading their arms and legs to make snow angels, battling each other in snowball battles, building forts and snowmen wearing baseball caps and cheap sunglasses, and riding down snowy hills together on a sled, the icy wind at their faces, all of them having the time of their lives. Welcome to the new world, my friend. |