Snow Flakes Of A, Youth's Day, Spent. Poem by Michael Gale

That fluttering white thing of
beauty that floats down and
melts it's cold, that
liquefy, onto my tongue...
These memories, that I
experienced, when i was
small and young.

The snow flake that
tickled my nose...
That at times
Made me sick, with
a cold, and temperature
that steadily rose.

That freezing weather,
can at times crack
my skin...
And makes me
hungry, and dizzily, thin.

The days of youth, can
be fondly remembered...
Of days, in past,
as cold, and olden, and
November and December-ed.

Ah yes! ...
Fond memories of a day, gone bye.
Me, oh my, how time does fly?