Snow Globe

The music plays, a soft reminder of days gone past; days of sun and warmth, when you put your head on my lap and we watched the time drift by. Days when we could lose ourselves in our private little world. You have gone now, but I feel you all around me, inside of me; you've left footprints all over my soul and have moved on, and I am here, where I was, where I am, where I will be. Snow falls, glittering in the morning's unfeeling rays. I feel them whispering against my upturned face, like your fingers reaching out from the past, each snowflake a person's life; falling, falling, and then melting back into the air from whence it came. Where do snowflakes go when they die? Or can it be that they never do, that they only change forms to be reborn again and again, living each life like their one and only, oblivious to the truth? I think about that and feel myself drifting, falling, tumbling through time and wondering where I shall drip.