There was no warning at all.
The snow flakes came down dancing
And the new joy
Of running out to the sidewalk
To catch the flurries
As they drained out.
I hung my nose out to catch them.

Some words are always prophetic.
Mama had scolded, back in time,
'Son, be careful, you catch
A cold too soon'.

Forty three years:
A mother's words.

My hair was under wraps,
My gloves were pure leather,
My feet had boots strapped almost upto my knees
My ears had plugs
And neck covered in a shawl
And the ski cap hung tightly to my forehead
My overcoat dared not dance with the wind

And then they came;
These flurries of my life.
They had no fear.
They were perfect like crystal.

May be a child
Could have put out a tongue
And caught those snowflakes
Dancing down the aisles
And sidewalks of a street.
But I am no more one.
This is my busy life,
I have children of my own
And I teach the young and the old.

Is there any shame in catching
The flurries as they dance?
Shall I stick my tongue out
And let them melt?
No, No, Not yet! I held back
And I hung my nose out to catch them.