Tear Drops

Snow, in its simplest form.
A snowflake. Crystalline beauty.
Lighter than a feather.
Its touch, a caress.
So fragile.
Try to hold it, and its gone in a moment.
It leaves nothing behind,
But a small drop of water.
A tear.

Then, it begins to pile up.

Clumping, drifting.
Blowing around like a white beast.
Adding weight to weight.
Breaking limbs from trees.
So Cold.
Try to move it, and it resists
With all that it is.
All we are left with is a small drop of water.
A tear.

Running down your face.