It Begins With Snoflakes

Alone in body, not in spirit, adding another year to life; and appreciating what's worth: when others are long gone to rest, and I am overwhelmed by guilt, being detached and deprived of their laugh... It begins with snowflakes, covering up all that is old, and somewhat being discarded and forgotten as mistakes, to bury a nostalgic past: 'till spring, dispersing cold, reawakens it from its stagnant state; and with nothing but hope I hopefully wait.... These hands are empty and in need of sympathy, seeking someone to touch them with warmth; only yesterday I owned happiness and the entire world; giving the sincerest love and being loved, but today the richness I avidly possessed has vanished for good: and was it my fault to let it slip from my uncaring, weakened hand? What ends in sorrow must not be considered a dead-end, beyond a snowy season: there are more seasons with sunshine; have the boldness to discover them and be captivated! My season begins with snowflakes hiding, from view, beauty and time; to make me reflect deeply on those decisions that weren't so perfect: by putting honesty before trust, and not feel betrayed by the effort... Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci