It’s Cold Outside

It’s cold outside I tell my Nan
As she buttons up her coat
Her favourite green shawl
Wrapped around her twice
Over her coat and around her head

It is cold outside I tell myself
As I pull on my gloves
And watch her step out
Her hands are bare
Have you no gloves Nan?
I can give you my spare?

She shakes her head
As I stand in dismay
It’s cold outside I tell my Nan
Never worn gloves
Is the answer I get

Her best years spent
In the heat of Bengal
Far from home
Where she stands today
In her saree and coat
And favourite green shawl

It is cold outside she says
Her frail brown hands
Slide deep into pockets
We begin to walk
Warming our hands
In differing ways, ways we understand

© Rabia Bashir 4th December 2013 All Rights Reserved
Image: Nan, It's Cold Outside © Rabia Bashir 2013

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