There is snow
On the ground
In my home.
There is something
White
And cold
And wet
In My Home.
And I look at the
Snow on the ground
In my home
And I remember
The times
We spent together
In my home
Before they all left.
There is snow
Falling to the ground
All around me
In my home.
The snow soaks into
My carpet
Staining my socks
With water
Cold,
Melting,
And wet.
"Stop it!"
I scream
To the man on the ceiling.
He looks at me,
Laughs,
And says,
"No.
You have not learned
Your lesson."
"My lesson?
What lesson?"
I scream
As puffy
White flakes
Fall to the floor.
"I cannot tell you,"
He replies,
Sending hail down at me.
"What kind of lesson
Am I
Supposed to learn
From snow?
There is nothing
I can take away
From something
Cold
And wet
Covering the floor
In my house!"
"You can learn plenty.'
He replies,
"And, until you do,
I can not stop
The snow."
"Then what must I do
To learn
This LESSON?"
"Observe,
Watch carefully,
For this LESSON
Can pass by
In an instant.
That is all I can tell you."
YOU ARE READING
Snow On The Tombstones: A Collection of Flash Fiction and Vignettes
Historia CortaA young man makes a serious mistake; an extraterrestrial explorer makes contact with an old temple; a group of friends sneak into an amusement park after hours; we are all tombstones; we are all here and gone.
