There was a Winter’s chill
But we still had fun
Sledding down the hill
In the clear Winter sun
It was a cold day of play
Mittens stuck to the sleds
A frantic snowball fray
With woolen caps on our heads
And we all slipped and slid
Never really knowing
How great it was being a kid
In our yard, as it was snowing
But then as we grew older
Winter never seemed the same
Each year grew a little colder
Reliving our childhood game
By Kirke Wise
The first publication of this poem was in the Winter 2019 edition of The Watershed Journal
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
There was a Winter’s chill
But we still had fun
Sledding down the hill
In the clear Winter sun
It was a cold day of play
Mittens stuck to the sleds
A frantic snowball fray
With woolen caps on our heads
And we all slipped and slid
Never really knowing
How great it was being a kid
In our yard, as it was snowing
But then as we grew older
Winter never seemed the same
Each year grew a little colder
Reliving our childhood game
By Kirke Wise
The first publication of this poem was in the Winter 2019 edition of The Watershed Journal
Just a little poem to help me capture and remember some of those winter moments in the back yard so long ago.