The Boy With Snow In His Hair

I look down from the clouds and see a

boy with snow in his hair. And I wonder,

who put him there? But I watch flacks 

descend, and ponder, the meaning of it 

all, can I go on longer? The snow cascades,

and the snow falls, while I stumble, and 

crash into walls. The Black of his hair, 

and the Blue of his eyes, make me think, that

it's all just lies. Stripped back, while I'm

standing aside, he's still there, but my hands 

are tied. The snow's melting, and the snow's 

drifting, but this boy's endless, and he's inwardly

lifting. Snow always crunches, and snow is 

soft. But it's only him, that keeps me 

aloft. I want to shout, and I want to 

whisper, but none of that, will make the snow

crisper. He's in my eyes, he's in my soul, 

he's all that's left to make me whole.