Winter, an essence
truly captured best
as snowflakes caught in cobwebs
in that dreary attic room

A wanton window wide open
As that powdery, nostalgic stuff
Enters (oh so innocently)
On frosty wind-sown rivulets

A flake
d
 r
  o
   p
    s
and rests upon the sill
Mocking, but not menacing
Reminiscent of times past.

Those wonderful moments
of school and snowmen.
Of friends and safety.
Of love. Of respect.
When a rock was something you kicked along the street.
And a crystal, a beautiful gem.

Yet, the flake is but a beauty-in-passing
And like those golden years,
it too melts away.

Its absence leaves me wondering,
through all of these hardships
What have we gained?
What have we become?