Image by Jörg Vieli from Pixabay
First snow of the year, hardly an inch on the ground. But the wind is howling, the air is chill, reminding me of another winter long ago. The southern edge of Mongolian steppe, wind-swept, dust swirled, potato frozen like stone. Gusts bit your nose, blue your lips, redden your face. Everybody was bundled up like a ball. All the girls were talented--A family of sisters with a loving mother. They knitted, they kneaded, they cut papers into pictures. "You can't do anything." They said to me, jokingly. "You can't even make a nice looking dumpling." I was clumsy and awkward, but I loved the girls--I loved to be scolded by them too. They were shy and blunt, fearful and daring, beautiful with no help from fashion. I thought life was unfair-- Why was I not born one of them? Their mother was warm while my mother was cold like the tofu she froze outside the window, why? Oh, perish the thought about the past. There's a truck plowing the street, there's the sound of ice scraped from a windshield. Life goes on, memory fades away...
Haoyan Do 
I can really relate to your poem. I have always wanted to be like those women but I am who I am and unfortunately we can’t change that.
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Thank you for your comment. Wish you can come back to wordpress soon. Miss your post and your positive energy.
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Very lovely poem 😊 ❤
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Thank you for your encouragement.
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One has to let go of the past and live in the present. It’s called healing and acceptance. You’re very brave, Haoyan. A lovely poem. 🙂
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Thank you, Terveen. It makes me feel good to vent my frustrations regularly. LOL.
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Your poem is very touching
also as a man
it is not easy
a warm feeling
for life
to have for other people
Best regards
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So true. We all want to have warm feelings for other people and be as nice as we can possibly be. I try to do it…
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