‘I wish to see the snow’
i said, little 6 year old,
never in my life have I seen real snow—

the only snow I knew
was the artificial kind,
cold like winter's breath,
but somehow wrong, you get me?

they told me it’s the same,
white dust, falling in clumps,
but where was the silence?
the weight of a season
pressed soft upon the world?

so i tried to find it my own
something the same,
like her.

but the silence was not the same
it was cold.
and it was now that I felt that snow
the one that gave me frostbites

‘silly! get back to reality!’