Snowflakes

There is nothing symmetrical about snowflakes.

They say each one is different when under a microscope,

But outside they all look the same to me.

I can’t decide whether to love them or hate them,

For they’re beautiful to watch, but leave behind the cold snow.

The piles of them leave such a strong mark, as I wait for spring.

How can something so beautiful bring something so terrible?

But maybe snowflakes tell us more about ourselves than anything,

That we all have our differences but in the big picture are more the same.

And the impossibility of always being bad,

When there is always some good to be had in everything.