Only first hand experience matters (poem)

Walking next to the frost covered grass,
I paused, took off my leather mittens,
bent down on my kness to touch and,
instantly I jumped off with "aaah".

For all these days, when I was seeing,
but I had never literally touched it,
I had no clue frost would be like,
piercing-chilled-sharp knives.

Till the time, I had touched the grass,
which was covered by a pretty layer,
for several hours every morning,
I never ever said, "poor grass".

So, until I have soothed my own reactions,
to what triggers me to desire or upset,
how can I ever expect anyone else,
to be calm amidst his triggers?

***
AUM TAT SAT (God is Truth)