DON’T COLLECT SNOW

DON’T COLLECT SNOW

The boy collected snow one day,
With his little spade in hand,
He gathered every flake he could
From all across the land.

He carried it into his shed,
And packed it to the door,
Then stamped it down with freezing boots
And hurried back for more.

He filled the corners, filled the shelves,
He piled it white and high,
Then stood and stared so proudly
At his treasure stacked nearby.

“I’ll save this snow for summer,
When winter’s gone away,
And when the sun is burning hot,
I’ll bring it out to play.”

His mum looked through the doorway,
And smiled at what she saw,
Her little boy still shovelling snow
And bringing in some more.

“Come in now, love, it’s getting late,
You’ve worked enough today.”
“But Mum, I have to fill the shed
Before the snow goes away.”

At last he put his shovel down
And climbed into his bed,
With snowmen, forts and snowball fights
All dancing through his head.

He dreamed that summer came at last,
With sunshine all aglow,
And every other garden was bare—
But he still had his snow.

Next morning he came racing down
And opened up the shed,
Then stared inside in disbelief
And slowly shook his head.

The mountain he had left last night
Had vanished from his sight,
There wasn’t one small snowball left
From all he’d packed so tight.

“Mum! Mum! Somebody’s stolen it!
My snow was here last night!
I filled this shed right to the top—
I know I packed it tight!”

His mother hurried down to him
And tried hard not to smile,
While he stood with his hands in the air
And stared there for a while.

There was water here and water there,
A puddle by his shoe,
A little stream beneath the door—
But snow? There was no clue.

“Who would steal my snow?” he cried,
“And where did all of it go?”
His mum bent down beside her son
And whispered, “Don’t you know?”

“The night grew warm, the snow did too,
And though you loved it so,
There are some things we cannot keep,
No matter where they go.”

She wiped the teardrop from his cheek
And said, There’s something you should know.
You can save your toys and pennies, son,
But never save the snow.

“Why?” he asked her tearfully,
“Why can’t I save the snow?”
She hugged her son so tenderly
And whispered soft and low—

You can keep so many treasures,
And love them as you grow,
But some things aren’t for keeping, son,
No matter what you do.

So keep the lovely memory
Of yesterday’s white glow
Because nothing melts as fast as snow.