Snowflakes

Watching snowflakes, six years old
Swirling down outside my window
I look around, the coast is clear
I run to the door, strap on my gear

Then sneak outside so my parents don’t hear
I clop through the snow, crunch, crunch, crunch
Look at the flakes tumbling down to Earth
And wonder if they taste of magic and mirth

So I stick out my tongue, start walking around
Trying to catch a single, perfect flake
Somehow I keep missing them, ever so slightly
Maybe ‘cause I’m prancing around like a young girl, sprightly

Instead I stand stock-still and open my eyes
And I stare at the one I know will make it to my mouth
It lands, perfectly frozen, on the tip of my tongue
It melts so slowly, tastes fresh and young

But something else as well, I can’t explain
Maybe it does taste magical and merry
I’ve tried many a time since that fateful day
Yet it’s never tasted better than that winter morn, so gray