You are the snowflake
in the buoyant afternoon
where you fade away still,
when I look at you,
pure like a waterfall.

It crashes and I can grapple the sound,
the continuous wave where
the titanic lies down with its
thousand sweet ghosts dancing into waltz
and where the water's steep falls
deep down and deep
and beneath.

You are the snowflake
in the crisp of December
where you turn into a delicate sixfold symmetry.

Where you were as remarkable as white
and bright like the bustling car rides and bus stops
where even the coldness can be someone's warmth.

In every season there's you,
different from time to time
still, when I look at you,
you are as graceful, majestic
for the weather to cast its rain.
Forecast, bluer than the usual;

And when I look at you,
you will always be
the snowflake that melts
in the sunny afternoon
and a delicate sixfold symmetry
in the winter of December.