
The whistle of the wind ringing through my ears.
The children running and playing,
In the festive sheets of the winter on the hillside,
Sledging, speeding down the fell, filled with pride.
Frost biting my ankle, nipping my neck, my nose and ears,
Temperature dropping,
My clothes soaked from head to toe from the layers of soft snow,
Fluttering through the air like cautious raindrops,
Firmly landing on my face.
Shivering cold, my lips blue, shrivelled and cheeks red, stinging.
Hollow footprints, snow crunching beneath my steps,
Presenting a trace of the past,
Temporarily.