A Snowflake's Tale

The whispers escaped into the cold air. The snow
is falling again. They disappear against the
slow, flowing stream. They sleep upon the forest leaves-
a flake cherished by the frozen ground.

A few smiled at you from your gloved hand.
You carefully examined the intricacies woven
into the piece of ice dust from the sky. You told me
the tale of the flake- the story the lines breathe.

This used to be the dew drop of a rose,
held captive by a bluebird. The rose cried it for her escape,
but the bluebird just couldn’t understand the
colloquy of the rose. The life of the rose is her dew drop tears,
you know this right?
For the rose to survive in different forms, she leaned over and cried.
The drops fell to the floor and nature took its course. The rose lay
wilted in her wake. The bluebird pushed it out,
and it fell lightly upon the ground, only to be buried hours
later by the boots of a traveling horse
carrying a beautiful princess.

The dew drop saw this, and when nature had decided to
re-birth this droplet, the droplet cried out that she,
for her brothers, sisters, and physical body that was once the rose,
wanted to be as beautiful as the princess that buried her body.
The clouds nodded slowly,
and formed this stunning snowflake.

I leaned in closer, and saw the story. It glowed in my eyes.
The flake slowly disappeared into your glove
as my breath melted it.

It’s a part of you, now.