Shhh! Little children. Gather 'round,
Hear the raindrops falling down?
Watch and listen, hear the sound?
-That pitter, patter all around?
However, should the moisture freeze,
Before it falls into the breeze;
And blows around your little feet,
You'll never know which ones will meet.
Stand real still and do not meddle,
Can you hear the snowflakes settle?
No you can't - and why's it so?
Where does the sound of a snowflake go?
They gather here, they gather there,
Each one different - no matching pair.
They settle in - as a marching band,
Yet quietly, contour the land.
We're all like snowflakes, each our own,
Some are small - some overgrown.
Under a heavy blanket of snow,
You'll find me there - somewhere below....
I'm but just one of many more.
I'm helping hold - the upper floor.
Let others bask out in the sun,
Get tossed around in wind with fun.
For I may not be king or queen,
Always heard - and always seen.
It's all okay.... I am content,
The rest can fight and circumvent.
But if you know, just what you'll be,
It matters not to an angry sea;
Go if you want and make some noise,
But remember this, you girls and boys:
Some climb the biggest, highest tree,
And yell out orders breathlessly;
But in the end, it's not to be.
It's all a waste futility!
It's not the din we make at birth,
That gives us special rights on earth;
It's not about the clothes we wear,
Or the gossip we might share.
It's not about the ground we tilled,
Nor all about the wealth we build;
It's really what you leave behind,
And whether you were fair and kind.
Eventually, the warm wind breaks,
And melts the coldest, biggest flakes;
They travel ditches - travel streams,
Travel creeks - with no more dreams.
Most will melt - in torrents roar,
And while they melt, they're wanting more;
It's really all, just up to you,
Who you'll be, and what you'll do.
But don't take Satan's awful blow,
When life is over and the rapids flow;
Screaming in anxious, helpless woe, because -
That's where the sounds of a snowflake go.
Did we exist? Will history show?
Who we were - or where we'd go?
It matters not, to me, you see,
For I have God - eternity.
Content and peaceful you will be,
-If you're a snowflake just like me.
Before I see that pearly gate,
It's me, who'll quietly evaporate.
2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Since age 50, Louis Gander has been writing poetry, including "story poetry". You can read more at ganderpoems.org
Please leave a quick comment if you enjoy one of my poems. Thank you!
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