Flakes - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Snowflakes fell, landing upon
the dilapidated body of man,
dressed not for the occasion
but for vanity and economic,
well, political and other success.
They all melted at once, watery,
their grave was unimportant, not,
as you would have expected,
of any significance at all.
But they all came from a womb,
leaving reluctantly perhaps
and aimed to make a place
in this world for all, and themselves.
And then, in a sudden explosion,
clarity was the fall-out, heavy but,
for all intents, benign, necessary.
It was found, through consensus
that no flakes ever did make a difference.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye