you'll never fall for me,
but you'll fall to the floor
like snow you've changed
from being this little
droplet into a cold frigid boy

so let it snow let it snow let it snow

I've always hated winter
But the beauty of this snowfall
Made me love this winter wonderland

The tiny flurries
Glide, shimmy down from the sky,
Their snowy bodies intertwining,
Rhythmically conjoining into a wintery waltz,
One two three
Together they step,
Sweeping against the buildings and the trees,
Resting their feet at last
As they gracefully come to a halt
Atop the pavement.

The first snow of the season
Blows its frosty breath against
My nose,
The wind catching my hair,
Whipping it against my scarf.
The cold feels
Jagged against my exposed face
And fingertips,
My lips splitting open from the air's
Bitterness.
I stop the snowflakes' strides short
As they get stuck to my coat,
My hat,
My long black lashes.

Winter is upon me.

I tattooed upon my wrist
snowflakes
one to remember
myself
and one to remember
you
that you're beautiful
*two

come
I invite you
study me
I want you
embrace the wonder
I will show you
the snowflake of my soul

One little point of light, among the vast array
One teeny, tiny bubble in the foam along the bay,
One horse amidst the numerous herds,
One lump among the copious curds,
A face lost in the masses.
But to me you’re like the sun,
I cannot know that you are one,
Nor comprehend your unimportance.
As each star has its place, and lives that it has touched,
Planets orbiting, and songs to sing,
One person can do much.
In one respect you are my moon,
Casting beams down on my heart,
Reflecting purer light,
And pulling me towards righteousness,
By giving me the tides.
Your beauty’s not diminished by the others in the sky,
For beauty always holds its own,
Don’t look at them and sigh.
Like a jewel strung on a necklace,
Like a loop in clouds of lace,
Like a single falling snowflake on a frozen winter lake.
But also like foundation stone,
A warp string in my weave,
The sugar in a wedding cake,
Your work in me won’t leave.

We refuse to look into the lens of reality,
Never looking up from our books.
Unmoving when the rain pours down,
We wade through muddy brooks

We drink from cups and drain them to the dregs,
Only smiling when we see each other's disconsolate faces
Awakened from the dark depths,
Cast into the most uncharted places

Our broken fingers count the drops
Of each snowflake at the edge of autumn,
Blazing wildfires to destroy mistletoes,
Beating the rhythm of someone else's heart-drum

Our lips sing overtures to the spring grass,
Bringing forth the onset of the sunrise,
Dreaming that the fallen world,
Is actually what the angels sing of on high.