THE HAND THAT I HELD
I remember that day
when my toes were so cold,
when I thought I’d never grow old,
I remember how good it felt,
the hand that I held,
as I trudged up the hill
to slide down again,
and again,
I can still taste the cold,
feel the crunch of the snow,
I think of it now and again,
and remember how good it felt,
the hand that I held,
I remember it even now
after so many winters have passed.
Poem and Photo by Rita Bourland
Norton the Dog at Sunny 95 Hill
Photo editing by Philip Bourland
Just Poetry and Prose 
Truly captures the totality of feelings as a child is protected while in the throes of excitement. Your words bring back that exquisite sensation.
Thank you! This is my Christmas card from 2018. I realized I never posted it on my blog. I loved the day I took this photo and all the feelings it evoked. xoxo
The small things help us remember life experiences. This poem expresses that delightfully. ❤️
Thanks so much, Maureen! Our memories seem to sharpen with time with primary focus on the things with the most emotional connection. xoxo