From white sheet skies, a snowflake flies
Each coated in their own disguise
Each single flake, they all awake
Unique in shape and size
The clouds from high, declare goodbye
As every snowflake starts to glide
They fight their fate, prolong the wait
All battle and collide
Still falling, falling, to the end
Each navigates a different bend
They try to force a different course,
And still they do descend
But as they drop to ground below
Each drifting snowflake starts to grow
It is the falling, not the end
That makes the greatest snow
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Comments
Really nice poem
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This was not my idea
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