Wrapping up warm

This poem by John Mole is such a poignant evocation of childhood. Especially in these days of heated bedrooms & global warming. I cannot remember the last time I saw an icicle hanging from the eaves

And, as a Raynauds sufferer, I wish I could find again my 10-year old package of heat

Warmth was an art
When I challenged the cold
To a jumping start
At 10 years old,

When an icicle-chime
On the breath-filled air
Struck Christmas time
And I was there

With a slip & a slide
And a skipping beat
Wrapped up inside
My package of heat

Which is still the gift
I remember best