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Love -
is like snow .
Beautiful
and
cold .
And , once upon a time ,
it so happened that ,
when it started snowing ,
inside the chocolate colored
short haired
girl's globe ,
the little kid inside it ;
ran to the large glass window
and stood by its side
until it started showering
tiny white crafted pixies .
He watched in awe
the fall of
m a g i c
called love .
The inquisitive eager boy
gazed intently at the
tiny little snow flakes
descending from the
highest ceiling above
and wondered how could
such an unsullied ,
pure and divine
beauty exist .
Once he witnessed this
secret little magic happen ,
there was no turning back .
So , he dashed to the front door ,
burst it open and
stepped into the fairytale
because he could not fight
the urge of standing under the
rain of God carved snow flakes .
He stood there amidst the
infinite white and
collected the magic
in his little pink palms .
And , he thought there was
nothing else in this world
he could ever want more .
Time passed .
As more time passed ,
the little tiny snow flakes
started piling up .
They were no more
little tiny snow flakes .
They evolved into ice cubes .
Cold .
Bitter cold .
And , then , one dawn ,
cracks were formed .
Fine thin lines .
Very fine and thin .
And , then , at dusk ,
the cracks led to broken pieces .
Broken pieces of ice cubes .
Irrecoverable .
" You are the ice cube " ,
whispered the little boy
into the girl's ear .
" Why did snow flakes happen to me ? Why did you let it get to you ,
lil' boy inside my globe ? " ,
whispered the girl back ,
to nothing but the
loud haunting silence
and filling emptiness of
her murky room .
A rain drop tinkled down
on the cold floor that had
no snow flakes now ,
but just slippery cold ice .
" Watch out ,
don't slip away
and fall " ,
she reminded . .
who ?
Maybe herself .
Maybe the redhead next door ,
maybe the dirty blond boxer ,
maybe the brunette ballerina .
Why snow flakes ?
Why are you
enchanting and dangerous ?
Why are you so pretty but so cold ?
Why ?
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«« Author's note :
Love is like a whole lot of things . I feel love is sometimes like snow . Tell me about what you all think love as »»
YOU ARE READING
into her phenakistoscope
Poetry«« when her life was at a halt , an illusion of motion was created and in her dreamlike state , her reality and her imagination met and gave her a blurred vision , her phantasmagoria took birth where her soul saw dreams of a...
