I miss that fine cold powder,
sure at time it was bitter to be pelted by
it. But other times in the late hours of the
day, one could just stroll and feel the
beauty caressing your face. A gentle flake
would pose itself on my eyelashes or
sticking out my tongue I could feel that
feathered tingle of flake just caress it.
What have we done that the snow does not
fall on my house, my city, my country,
pretty soon it will stop all together and
future generations will not have the privilege
of knowing what is a flake of snow.....
No comments:
Post a Comment