In third grade we looked at pictures of snowflakes,
Their silvery outlines stark against black
Every year we see the pictures
Until we don’t
We’re too old to experience magic, I suppose
And much too old to believe in it
There is nothing more delicate than snowflakes
And nothing stronger than our skin
Worn now like leather,
Faded and spotted by the same sun that melts
Snowflakes
The only magic that we still believe in
But snowflakes don’t fall anymore
Another instance of magic fading away
Like memories that we don’t revisit
The same sun that melted the snowflakes then
Withers the grass now
And the snow doesn’t fall, but we’re still here