You're My Snowstorm

You are a blizzard, blowing violently in over the mountains. You rush wildly into every corner, covering every surface in that icy powder. You freeze the world into silence and peace, but also into chaos, traffic accidents, falls, and children playing (not all chaos is bad). Trapped indoors, or exploring out of them, I watch the flakes settle gently. It may be cold, harsh, and difficult to handle, but it is beautiful. You are beautiful. I can both scorn and love the snow somehow, disliking the cold distance that occurs, but enjoying the sun refracting off of the untouched inches of diamond. And though I love to see you go, I hate so much to watch you leave. But I know, in the end, you are not meant to stay. You are my snowstorm, blowing in for the winter and slipping out again as easily as spring melt, so that one morning I wake and you are gone.