They’re not falling down, the snowflakes. They’re dancing around in the air. It’s a strange kind of weather.
The rose slowly bends her head. She always knew she wouldn’t last for ever. She didn’t mind. She was satisfied with the days she had in the sun.
Some around her says she has lost her beauty. Other’s just find beauty of another kind, in the way she glows.
They fell on her petals, those madly dancing snowflakes. They didn’t melt when they touched her skin, cause she was turning cold.
The snowflakes made her shimmer in the silvery moonlight, as she went through the darkest night of her soul.
In just another kind of beauty she reminds us – we all just come and go – in a steady flow. Of love. Of life. In peace.