A single blackened snowflake hanging in the air,
a choice to stand out so vividly
from the others so pale.
A choice that is not it's own,
nor could be fear of difference.

Slowly descending to rest upon my palm,
It cannot wait as it melts away into nothingness,
Gone as though it never was.

A miracle in nature,
A phenomenon unheard of.
But who will ever know; who will believe?
In difference the flake is soon forgotten.

This flake chose to alight upon myself,
perhaps seeking to find another like itself.
Yet it is just a meminder, a mockery,
knowing that these shadows will ultimately
take away, with myself,
The memories of whoever I was supposed to be