Nut Breakers Hill

by Judith A. Lawrence

The snow compacted,

three days iced.

The sled allowed

for two.


She was twelve

and he was ten,

didn't matter

cause they were friends.


She wore two sweaters,

new boots, doubled her socks,

gloved her hands snugly,

and pulled down her cap.


Bouncing dizzily

they flew down the slopes

with her holding on

for all she was worth.


Her thick brown hair

fell out of her cap

as they both tumbled over

and fell on their backs.


Reaching over

he planted a kiss

on her upturned nose

and cherry red lips.


In feigned indifference

she shook him aloft,

tossed her hair laughing

and swiftly ran off.


But the kiss, the kiss,

still lives on her lips,

and chases through

her memories forever.