Sabu Francis

My nephew picked up
in his gloved hand
some glittering snow.
He watched it
all magically flow

To which his kindly father;
my brother, said
all that glows
sometimes does
not stay nor grow.

The little child then
innocently asked
why the snow melted
in the freezing London heart

My brother thought to himself:

one day he will know
the cold will always end
in the presence of the
slightest warmth