I remember the wind howling outside,
the snow piling up in drifts at our door.
Jack Frost would paint our window sill,
but we’d all be safe and warm.
I remember stamping the snow off our boots
so we wouldn’t get it inside.
Then we’d all curl up by the fire
wrapped up in a warm bear hide.
Thirst would get us a cup of cocoa,
hunger a piece of bread.
Until the night we went out to the woodpile
to find out daddy was dead.