Moccasins

will, singing
the christmas carols,
bring down snow
warmer and softer,
there are my little feet,
too much hurt
by the sharp edges
of the snowflakes.
My freezing breathes
fly upto the clouds,
where I can hardly see upto.
May be there is
someone hidden in those clouds
collecting the snow in its fists
and throwing down at us.
So, its evening,
and the warm hand
of the sunlight
has been dug in the pocket of the mountains,
where a million trees fill my eyes
with white silvery creamy layer.
It was just yesterday
when I became moan
out of the despair
that suddenly rose when I thought
I ll dance and hop
in those moccasins
which I saw wide eyed at
the big glass windowed shop.
I would never be able to buy them.
Walking on the ice
wouldn't have been so itchy
if my feet could adorn
those high heeled moccasins.
The big boy at the school says
theres no such old man
who'll get you , your desired gifts.
Better tuck your pillow nicely
cause no one's coming
to wake you up and kiss your head
and say Merry Christmas.
Preoccupied already by the thought
I felt dizzy as mommy tucked
me nicely in the bed,
but my feet she I guess forgot to dress.
I enquired with a gentle rise of head,
I washed with a warm smile
as I laid wearing those moccasins,
thankyou, old man.