Thousands of snowflakes

descend gracefully from a winter sky

Each presenting itself as its very own

I gaze upon them all

stumbling across one…

and another…

and another…

Each retaining its persona

Each encapsulating its fragility

I fix my eyes on one

and reach out towards its anatomy

as it falls gracefully

into the hospitality of my hand

There, it lies still

Unstable in its elegance

I lose sight of its complexion

I watch my eyes glisten in its liquid reflection

I wonder how many more I can try to hold

until one decides to stay

But none do

And so I stare at the edge of my rooftop

and admire prisms of frozen water instead

Sculptures formed by nature's demand

I am not alarmed by the icicle’s frame

Nor am I reluctant

I break off a piece from its stand

and I watch it place its ground on the palm of my hand

Jagged

I admire its strength and contour

Withholding the ability to cause casualties

with one wrong sway

I am hypothermic in its presence

still in search of warmth

…

If love on a winter's day

froze in place

I would still have what I have lost

Cold and barren

through unsettling recollections

I would still search for what wasn't mine

And if love during spring nights

bloomed

its roots would remain

strong and steadfast

Butterflies would leave their cocoons

following the sweet scent

of my hand

which tastes of sweet honey

when interlocked with another

And if love under summer heat

was as passionate as the sun

then its memories are forever stamped

as reckless and intense

as young and wild

Celebrating its youth

with tanned skin

From the ones before

and the ones that may come

And if love between autumn's forests

ages

then I too will follow the leaves

Embracing its impermanence

permitting myself

to let go

So if love undergoes its every season

I'll embrace each as its very own

for by then I'll be ready

if winter decides to return

once again