Snowflakes in Dreams

Today as I left work snowflakes were falling. It seemed so fitting to send out the last day of November, and bring in the first day of December. It was a rare, mini lake effect squall that decided to take an unconventional direction off of Lake Superior. It by now is enough to put a generous dusting on my car as I look outside at my car, though as first left work around 10:30pm there were only a few lonely intricate tiny flakes that had landed alone on my icy cold car window. As I looked out at the frozen crystals amid chilled air of only single digits above zero Fahrenheit, I was given the inspiration for the following poem.


Winter, it seems as everyone knows,
is all about having cold toes,
breathing chilled air, and getting a cold nose,
But meanwhile I dream in broken prose,
as is my life, and as it always goes.

And so the moments pass as fall gives way
the sheets of glass, water becomes today,
The moments last, each one I pray,
will bring me, guide me, to grasp someday.

Grasp the meaning of my life
and where shall come my beautiful wife?
Each day it seems my speculation so rife,
with each moment pointed as a knife.

Winter flakes floating alone.
In renegade directions, on a day no sun shown,
One by one, with no chorus or tone,
each one lands apart, though sometimes blown.

There will be days of grey, so dreary,
that you might become sad, or sometimes weary.
Embattled moments some far from cheery,
lead us to thoughts at times so leery,

Though now it seems that in your head,
the leery ways you sometimes lead,
are no longer here and seems they're dead.
Those times you realize joy instead.

Many moments given to the wind,
Given to God, your mind has opened,
despite the cold sadness has thinned,
and within cold cheeks you now have grinned

Life has its ups and downs which sometimes make,
life so hard that its hard to take,
life can be like that of one snowflake,
living tossed and blown until you ache.

In those times it might seem we are alone,
frozen cold, and less than known,
miles apart from another home,
In a new life we will all call our own.

Though from formation to disintegration,
We are living beautiful lives within our nation,
We are so unique so varied and full of elation,
though tumbled and tossed until cessation.

Another day will come our way,
as often said and some might say,
flakes will always melt amid sun ray,
like dust you are and taken away,
snowflakes to water and back again one day.