Soft; it rides the wind
So chrystaline does it shine
A tear from heaven
The sun dips slowly
Rotating forward; it dies
Drifts through the mountain
The snowflake lifts fine
And moves slowly on her palm
Sitting upright tall
She touches it fast
The flake folds in her soft hand
Dying, the girl cries
Comparing the flake
To her internal sadness
Melts slowly inside
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