"Poems are forever floating through my mind and if I don't catch them pin them to the page they are gone forever and what good is that?"
~ My journal (age 14)

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Snow fall

An afterthought of flurries
lighten the dusk
just a whisper of winter left
and even though they'll never
amount to anything
still they fall
because that's what snow does
there is no question in nature
of purpose, of meaning
they are one in the same
here they are, there they go
it is a wondrous show

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