In Retrospect

They gaze outside in wide-eyed wonder.
“Hard to imagine,” you tell them, “millions
of snowflakes, and yet not one has a twin.”
All unique – one of a kind; much like them.

They rush around the house for bits and bobs
to give their future snowman, a nose, eyes
ears and mouth. You fetch their coats,
and Wellington boots; play hunt the glove.
Why does always one go missing?

You gaze outside in wide-eyed wonder.
Where did all the years go? Watch them
throwing snowballs; knowing full well
inside half an hour they’ll be banging
on the door; hands blue with the cold.

Meantime, you realise, as they twist
and twirl on frozen lawn – scarves around
their necks like parcels tied with bows,
that these were your gifts to the world.