Soft flurries come down from the sky
Looking closely you notice the twinkle in her eye.

She recalls the days when she was young
Wishing for snow storms and catching the soft flakes on her tounge.

She danced in the whiteness the purity rubbing off on her
The memories go cold and it all becomes a blur.

She remembers feeling joyful as the snow feel all those Years ago,
but now the word joyful is a word she doesn't know.

The soft flurries landing gently and soundlessly on the ground
Reminding her of the piter patter of his heart, her favorite sound.

She remembers all the times that they spent together,
And suddenly snow was her least favorite type of weather.