Red Scarf, Red Hat, Red Mittens

The other evening snow began to fall, and there!
The tiny flakes I remembered from long ago—
When I was just a girl who wore a red scarf,
Red hat,
Red mittens.

Holding out my wee-girl hands to try and catch the snow,
Because we didn’t see it often, those days were like magic.
While glittered specks floated down, my eyes
Followed one, then another, and another to my mitten.
Small, fairy-like, and I was undone.

Every year at school, flakes cut out of paper dangled
From the ceiling. Familiar patterns, now lighting on my hand—
Where they stopped, just to say hello.

Introductions were made to every snowflake who visited.
I told them they were beautiful.
They would blink, and they would smile.
My gloves were warm and so the tiny crystals would melt,
But not before waving a happy goodbye.

I’m swept back into the moment by the cold on my face.
Now grown, with no mittens.
I shut my eyes tight, trying to capture once again
The faces of those I’d known. That day I promised
To remember them always, and never forget—
Each of their tiny, snowflake names.

Red Mitten Snowflake


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