White
Coming down in soft flakes,
Melting on my toung
Beautiful for such a short time.
Floating down blissfully
Waiting to land,

Landing,
Softly being crushed under my boots.
As I walk up the hill to go sledding.
As I zip down the hill,
Snow getting in my eyes,
My cheeks red and burning,
Being cut by a million tiny knifes.
Going over a jump and,
"catching air"
The wind is knocked out of me as I land
Reaching the bottom,
Disipointment at how short the ride is.

Going inside to sit on the couch eating popcorn and drinking cocoa.
Watching to snow flutter down out side.
Thinking about what it is like,
To be a snowflake.
To be created high uo in the clouds,
A beautiful piece of ice crystle.
To small to be marveled at
Only to float blissfully to the ground,
To be crumpled up by a boot.
On its way up a hill to sled.

To be flattend by a sled,
As it zooms down the hill,
Hitting a bump and flying into the air,
To flatten may more of us.

What would it be like to be a snow flake?

Presley sat, completely still, till fancied a sip
grabbing goblet bruskly, swallowing carefully, grunting harmoniously.
Slamming the crystle down on the bar,
loose letting  his arms.
With an empty mind,  listening to  Juke Box.
across the room two men that worked at the diner Presley wished to serve for walked in.
One was a husky beefy leather daddy.
Presley made a a pass at him a bit back.
He made his bar demands handing the barman money.
Presley thought " oh  man what a man" to thinking... " relax....  get loss and let fall  symmetry...
attraction has its paths with everyone.
Presley stayed slouched remembering.
If one you fancy doesn't look your way often he doesn't fancy you.