The flake, being just a flake, has a will
That surely lies elsewhere.
Is it the clouds or wind or the hill
Or something else elsewhere?
I wish I know, sadly said the flake
Then I’d have floated far
Riding on my cloud powered by the wind
Yes, I’d have floated far
To little kids on sun-burnt sand dunes
To melt on their parched lips…
I’d love to grapple with factory fumes –
Smile as pollution dips!
I’d mesmerize souls that cannot come
To me when I do fall
Their money faults – failing bones for some:
I’d come near them to fall.
But I am a flake, on flakes I fall
Not always of my call
With me on them every doll or moll
Become alike for all!
Your will, dear flake, I ask again
To choose your here or there?
The snowflake simply turned and asked: can
You dodge that snowflake there?
© Arvind Passey
29 March 2011
Image credit: Bountiful Blessings Farm