Snow.
It falls from the sky
Lands on the ground
And either melts or sticks.
What kind of snowflake are you?
There are certain conditions that help
Is the ground cold?
Are there other snowflakes to keep it company?
Support?
What kind of snowflake are you?
Are you already on the ground, white and untouched?
Are you already on the ground, stepped on and dirty?
Or are you falling from the sky?
What kind of snowflake are you?
Are you powdery or wet?
Do you blow with the wind?
Or maybe you're packed solid?
Are you turning into ice?
What kind of snowflake are you?
Because life is a snowstorm.
There are seasons, there are reasons.
Things change and we're so fragile
Like snowflakes we can change
Be affected, melt, be broken
Blown by the wind
What is our foundation?
And how much can people tolerate us?
Though snowflakes don't have control of themselves
We do.
So what kind of snowflake are you?
1 comment:
Interesting!
I'm curious about the line towards the end, "how much people can tolerate us". It seems to stand out from the theme of the rest of the poem. The rest is introspective and that question is directed at the opinion of those outside of yourself.
Which is interesting in and of itself, because of how much people are talking about being fed up with the snow or loving it and everything in between.
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