For a moment, I notice them-
A field of fluttering children
Swaddled in plush cotton cozies
And roughly sewn scarves.
I watch them as they huddle together,
buzzing,
Gaping eagerly at an overcast sky,
With winter's frost floating lazily
From their mouths.
They are so young,
And I wonder
Where my own youth has gone.
Has it drifted away
Like warm breath in the snow?
Has it been crushed
Like icicles underfoot?
If only I had known
To savor those days...
Then perhaps I would not dwell so
In the past.