You say to the person with 60 poems in their NaPo thread.
Snowflakes (fall quietly Like ballerinas tiptoeing on the ice Their slippers searching beneath the lake's frozen surface For something lost long ago Their cold ice crystals Shimmering in the winter wind Cold hands clawing and breaking through Arms hugging the water As they slowly disappear Slowly merging into the icy waters Their unique beauty bubbling away)
The grand in the hotel rings with broken tunes; the guests frown; the concierge winces. But the blue-hatted boy is happy and braver than they. — TheMythMaster
