Identical snowflakes
A bona fide rarity?
A miracle?
Only the sage can say
And he is far away
Measuring hailstones
Bermuda she recalls
Yet here
In the frozen lands
North of nowhere
She is compelled
To tell of
To show
To someone
To anyone
Her immaculate
Inconceivable find
Fail in this
Then it never happened
No one will believe her
Ever
Save perhaps the sage
After all he is
A philosopher
More so
In his spare time
When in drink
Regardless
In the wilderness
To stumble upon
Friend or foe
Indeed any anomaly
In human form at least
Is to deviate from
The rationale
Yet in the near distance
A silhouette
A running male
Giving chase
To a caribou
And losing out
Abysmally
Bent over
Hands on knees
Catching his breathe
He admits defeat
This time
Composure restored
Almost
He surveys
His surroundings
Identifies a girl
A girl he does not recognise
She waves
A beckoning wave
His body language
Indicative of a message
Received and understood
They meet halfway
On the milky lowland
Of nature’s own design
“What have you got there young lady?”
“Identical snowflakes…look see”
“So you have. Remarkable”
“I know. What should I do with them?”
“Squeeze your hand tightly”
“If I do that they shall melt before their time
The sage must see them before they die”
“But I have seen them. I am your witness
Besides I see they have already thawed”
With that
Her witness
Trudged off
Toward the conifers
Leaving a mosaic
Of footprints
She chose
Not to follow
She would never
Bump into
The stranger
He who could
Give testimony
Ever again
The sage
Never returned
From warmer climes
Many years later
Now an old lady
On what was to be
Her deathbed
She would tell
A patronizing nurse
All about the
Snowflakes
The both of them
“You don’t believe me do you?
You think I’m mad”
“Of course I believe you dear…of course I do
Now take this tablet; it’ll help you sleep”
She never woke up
As such
A truth had died
It is the saddest thing
When truth is no more
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- MIKE STEEDEN - 
“After all he is
A philosopher
More so
In his spare time
When in drink”
This is wonderful.
(and you — know — how much I love Melanie)
Have spilled some ink on her.
Pretty sure you know this.
Cheers Sir. Yes, we are both under Melanie’s spell…even after all these years. I was still in my teens when she came over to the UK and sang Bo Bo’s Party on the BBC to a live audience of English dullards who thought the song discusting. To me, her early music is, was and always will be magic. Good on you old chap. Regards, The Old Fool
Better to have lived and died than never to have lived at all. Love your delicate poem.
My thanks. Your kind words are much appreciated, young lady.
Definitely an allegory for these troubled times. Truth has melted away, yet has anyone noticed?
My thanks, Liz. I agree. It was just the other day I picked up on the news of the six little innocent kids who died when a bomb from a hopeless drone landed upon their house. ‘Tis a thing I can’t get out of my mind, made worse because of poor excuses…lies by any other name. Truth is in short supply as is always the case. Best regards, The Old Fool, a sad one at that.
You’re welcome, MIke. Part of me hates to watch the news, yet another part of me thinks it would be irresponsible of me not to. I need to know that others are suffering and dying in this world.
I couldn’t agree more Liz. At least the news bulletins let the world see the American marine in Afghanistan gathering up the little girl, carrying her over the barbwire to safety; a magical thing and proof that there are decent humans still. I’ll admit to a few tears watching. What a world we live in.
You are so right, Mike. What a world we live in.
Adore this lovely poem and stirring metaphor. Your choice if music is perfect accompaniment
My thanks, young Holly. Truly appreciated.
You’re so welcome and thank you dear friend.
Yes, it is late but i always come back to the posts I bookmarked to read. The special ones I keep when I can’t get to them earlier. And this is well worth coming back for, Wonderful in fact. And the choice of music is the cake icing. Always loved that song.
My thanks, young Ms S. You’ve rather made my day.
Aww… Now you made mine. Sometimes when i am rushing a bit I just nip down through reader but I aye bookmark the ones I want to read.
Ohhh this is quite beautiful. I love it.
Many thanks, Tara. I’m so pleased you liked it.
Link, thanks, un abrazo Juan
A well composed concept. Very inventive. I love the choice of music too.💞🎶🍮🍮
My thanks.
What an intriguing tale, Michael. Fanciful and full of wonder.
My thanks, LuAnne
TOF, the poem is fabulous… mystic and sad and mindful.
I like Melanie’s songs, a lot!
When I was a young vegetarian, her song “I Don’t Eat Animals” was my personal anthem.
However, she eats animals now. She’s honest about it, and I still adore the song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpjtk-XtPjkx
My thanks, young Resa. I know the Melanie song well. Her early ‘stuff’ in particular was rather special. When she first appeared on the BBC TV back when I was but a teen I sensed magic. Her first song known to me being Bobo’s Party. Lyrically, no other dabbled in subjects like that at the time. She did, and did it well. There was true passion in her work. Regards, a weather watching TOF as we’re all off to the south-west for a holiday in a couple of days. I wish it could be France, yet getting there and back is still a worry as the traveling rules keep changing.
Agree, there was passion in Melanie’s work!
Don’t worry TOF! You’ll be travelling soon enough. I figure 2-5 years this will all be figured out! 🙃😷🤔
I tend to think that in 5 years time I’ll be a tap dancing hedgehog with a walking stick living down a well lit hole. If so I’ll have to call myself TOHF
The Old Hedgehog Fool?
Correct!
Finally! Got one!
Ah, a bittersweet one, Master Steeden. One kind, magical, quiet, and a bit sad. Powerful, too. You always get me, you do. 🙂
As a kid, when told there was no such thing as identical snowflakes. I would search and search to find a pair. Forgetting all about it back then, yet now in my in my dotage it came back…hence this ‘almost poem’. I’m most pleased you liked it, young Ms Lee
Your poetry always brings a smile to my face and a spark of light to my day, Master Steeden xxxxx