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Apr 2016
Once I met this girl
On my way to a desert of snow.
With a bucket and shovel in my hand,
A bit of chill on the spine,
I was trying to make a heap of snow
Then maybe a man of it.
She sat there for hours,
Watching me, smiling with fair cheeks,
While I saw her transforming bit by bit.
A carrot appeared on the nose,
Green scarf of a childhood winter
Cuddled her cold white neck,
And a fuzzy hat sat on her snow-head.
My baffled voice asked,
β€œHow did you do that?”
Without opening her lips, she answered,
β€œJust dreaming bigger.”
I am thankful to my friend Tulika for this poem, who taught me that dream not only can be of making a snowman, but can be of becoming one.
Sanjukta Nag
Written by
Sanjukta Nag  India
(India)   
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