LIFE OF A SNOWFLAKE
April 9, 1988
As I sit here-----looking out
At the flurry of drifting snow.
It doesn't matter that it's spring,
The flakes still come and go.
I watch a flake as he floats by,
Trying so hard to survive.
He catches a gust of frigid wind,
And upward begins his climb.
But just as he thinks "I've got it made,"
The current pushes him down.
Again he's falling to his death,
As he plummets to the ground.
I looked to see where he touched earth,
For a sign he'd ever been,
But for all his struggle to survive,
There was nothing left of him.
Nothing to show he'd ever lived;
Nothing to show he'd died;
Nothing to show what he could have been,
Even though he tried.
By: Sheila Weaver
aka" PEACEFULLYABIDING
As I sit here-----looking out
At the flurry of drifting snow.
It doesn't matter that it's spring,
The flakes still come and go.
I watch a flake as he floats by,
Trying so hard to survive.
He catches a gust of frigid wind,
And upward begins his climb.
But just as he thinks "I've got it made,"
The current pushes him down.
Again he's falling to his death,
As he plummets to the ground.
I looked to see where he touched earth,
For a sign he'd ever been,
But for all his struggle to survive,
There was nothing left of him.
Nothing to show he'd ever lived;
Nothing to show he'd died;
Nothing to show what he could have been,
Even though he tried.
By: Sheila Weaver
aka" PEACEFULLYABIDING
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