Saturday, February 22, 2014

Snow Girl



There was George, and Dave, and me,
all indentured and marked by trade,
three old lions without a carnivorous tooth
between us, that had not been worn down
by age and grinding dreams,
three redundant worker bees
now volunteering to support
a commune’s dream in a city garden.

The snow-lashes had fallen overnight
one to another in their thousands bound;
wedded together into one white promise
they were a bride's promise,
a child's playground.

We old men, job weary with work
and wanting to play, dug deep
and heaped a man of snow
discarded scarecrow hat on top,
and  Ashling added the buttons
and ornament,
as children and women are inclined to do.

Oh Ashling the young, Ashling the bright
Ashling the one
with the perfect white teeth.

It was George who first forgot his senior status
gathered two snowballs from the ground,
gloving them into battle ready shape.
.
Oh Ashling the young, Ashling the bright
Ashling the one
with the perfect white teeth.

Then, on realising his age
and the solemnity of our present slowing state,
he paused and allowed his hands to curl
redundant, shame-filled, by his side.
I think it was the lack of twinkle in my eye
that finally signaled the passing of his fighting days,
and being a poet, and a wag,
George mimed the careful weighing of each ball;
one final, testicular, comment on our state.

After a round of teenage shuffling,
and competition for the comment most apt
Ashling saw the ancient loins had stirred,
and offered to take those now redundant balls
from George passed over; reluctantly disarmed
de-clawed.

She took them to where our snow man stood
and carefully placed her gifts upon his chest
and after two further button ornaments were pressed
she stood back with pride
to admire the snow girl by her side.

I knew then
that what was once a feverish fire
could not now melt a snow girl
. . .  my sole desire.

©Niall OConnor    2012




2 comments:

  1. Heather Maecherlein BrowneFebruary 22, 2014 at 4:00 PM

    Wonderful

    ReplyDelete
  2. OMG, this is fabulous, Niall. Sad and funny and bittersweet. Wonderful story telling.

    ReplyDelete

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