One small flake,

In the first fallen snow,

How will my life go?

Will I stay where I landed?

Or get blown by a blizzard,

Into the city,

Where fumes can make me unpretty?

 

The life of a snowflake,

Can be horrid or blessed,

From that first fallen snow,

Are any flakes left,

At the end of the season?

Or did they all disappear,

Seemingly without reason?

 

Some of us die off in a week,

The weather warms,

Making us weak,

And then it’s off,

To that final sleep.

 

Others land on a car,

After falling so far,

Our lives end in a flash,

Crushed by tires or wipers,

How fast it is over,

As if eaten by vipers.

 

It’s scary to think,

We could land on a hidden stair,

And get crushed by the boot,

Of whoever resides in that lair.

 

I hope I get lucky,

I hope when I fall,

I fall  in a yard,

Untouched by things sucky.

 

Maybe then someone will shape me,

Into a ball,

And after I’m smashed,

I can peacefully rest,

Where I may fall.

 

Perhaps a child will form me,

Into a fort,

And until Springtime I’ll be,

His secret resort.

 

A little girl may get the notion,

To make a snowman,

Part of him I will be,

And avoid the trash can.

 

Anything to escape the plow truck,

And get pushed into a bank,

Then turn into muck,

From snow white to slate grey,

On the side of a highway.

 

And when temperatures rise,

But before flowers bloom,

My life is over,

It’s time for our doom.