Rocking Chair Winter

Yesterday, I came across this poem out and an Ideals book. It goes..

         Winter Memories

In winter, I remember still…

(As bundled youngsters trudge uphill

With sleds behind them, lagging there,

As snowflakes drift through the pathless air-

And when atop the hill they rest

Just wondering which snow-trail is best,)

I seem to see myself in them

As I relive old scenes again!

It seems that wintertime is fun-

But somehow only, to the very young!

for as the years creep up on me-

My rocking chair seems best, you see!

The snowball fights seemed quite the thing

For fingers cold, from winter’s sting.

And games were always fun, you know,

Like making “Angels,” in the snow.

A dish of snow “ice-cream” was good

Beside the stove-made warm with wood.

And icicles hanging from the eaves

And diamonds glistening from the trees

Were things of beauty, given free

To the like of you and me!

The curling smoke from the chimneys, tall,

Lent a sense of serenity over all.

Yes, wintertime is fun, no doubt,

To youngsters who can run about,

But give me warmth, and books galore-

And my rocking chair-why ask for more!

                                                       Beatrice Drummond