From the slope off the graceful mountain <br />she is always <br />the hand that never closes <br />falling it is from <br />without solid form <br />is now white <br />cold filled <br />thirst falling <br />falling is voices crying <br />darkly more than the flakes <br />of all cistern's <br />I am of he made <br />doomed is souls <br />hades in made asking of me <br />burning souls <br />remade image of <br />slain flakes snow to <br />lay stained all to know <br />hurriedly I turn <br />to go <br />lest I melt <br />in a pool as that of none few ever come back <br />except one. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Happy birthday <br />Daughter of <br />six....16 april 2009<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snow-flake-each-one-sought/
