366 Poems: December 8th, 2016


I am a snowflake–

cold and shrill,

pure and fair,

taking my time as I fall,

fall through the air.

Watch me tumble through that pretty girl’s hair

with my visions of the future crystal clear

and a gale-forced heart that blows me higher,

higher than a jazz trumpeteer.

And I know I’m one of many.

I know that soon the variety dies out

and you’ll start to hate the shrillness

as you insist that I’ve been here too long.


But god knows you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.


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