I will remember
the song that my heart
played percussions to.

I will sing the words,
with no one else,
to a song made for two.

I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.

It bears a secret,
so immense and heavy,
it’s worth a thousand keys.

And laden like a million treasures -
all locked in a lone chest.

To write of it,
taboo.
To speak of it,
blasphemous.
But a taste of it,
heavenly bliss.

So I bear its secret...
One that paints grandeur
and weighs a lifetime.
And it’s worth my every breath.