Snowflakes Poems Novels & Stories

I swept my hand above hers, and the snowflakes immediately started moving in a circle, giving the illusion that they were alive and dancing. I internally signed. I was hoping Emily would be able to see and hear what I could—every little detail and perfection of each snowflake. I smiled watching them lift in the air, each with their own color, sound, and shape. I guess each one might even taste differently as well. One day I will be able to show her how big my little perfect world is, but until then, I will have to manage to perfect this ability. I would love to see how she reacts when she sees the colors they reflect.

That very night, the first fall of snow, two private planes landed at different airports boarded the most powerful and wealthiest people on the entire globe. The world was raining fluffy silver snowflakes. It acts like an angel, fluttering down from the sky with such grace and elegance, and softly lands on the earth. The snow-covered people seem to have come to an elegant and quiet realm, and come to a crystal-clear fairytale world. The scent of snow gives a cool and soothing comfort. It sprinkled beauty everywhere.

"Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, the snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky. At a castle window framed in ebony sat a young Queen working at her embroidery, and as she was stitching away and gazing at the snowflakes now and then, she picked her finger and three little drops of blood fell down upon the snow.

He is going to get this so wrong. "Flores crescere in vere. Vivaldi Nisi aquae de sero se foras mittetur. Cadent folia in autumno. Snowmen adepto constructum- in hyeme. Omnia sit circuit per circulos." he says in Latin. My jaw must be on the floor he can speak Latin beautifully. (Flowers grow in spring. Water gets thrown in Summer. Leaves Fall in Autumn. Snowmen get built-in Winter. Everything goes around in circles.) "Good, Brooke can you repeat this poem," Mrs. Stelch asks while writing down a new one.

It was deep into the night, with the snowfall persisting. The accumulating snow on the pathways deepened, sometimes revealing faint tire impressions from those returning home. The delicate snowflakes fell in no particular direction, scattered and gentle, looking the same wherever they landed—pure and pristine white.

“Snow falls in all directions, “Turning the sky and earth white. “Even if they are all overturned, “They will still be covered in white.” Great poem! What a great poem!

Not bothering about my favorite hairstyle, I gradually eyed the old page that had been sprinted with the dark ink. “As winter's breath draws near, late autumn's phase seems queer. A strange time in life's sphere. The balmy zephyrs of summer, once beloved, now stir within you a disapproval. To the depths of the mind it leads, where shadowed memories plant their seeds, of the last few months it speaks, And in the heart, a sadness leaks. Simultaneously, it ignites a longing within to behold the splendour of snowflakes descending. Learn to shroud thyself in icy veneer, leaving warmth a mere figment to revere.” How many times have I read this? About a hundred times or more. But the more I read th

I couldn't help but return his smile with one of mine; maybe not one as bright and beautiful looking as his, but either ways, a smile. "Hello! I'm Snow and I think you're very beautiful," I replied, automatically throwing in a compliment without even realising it. After getting nothing in reply, I glanced back up in Dylan's face to find him blushing a beautiful pink, a colour I've found annoying whenever it appears on my face, unlike Dylan's face, that colour red was made for his beautiful, feminine face.

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

SUSANNA…… I stepped out into a winter wonderland. Suddenly, the cold air stung my cheeks so I pulled my scarf up closer to my face that was wrapped around my neck. As I looked around and noticed a carpet of snow. A white blanket of snow enveloped the world. Trees are heavy with snow on their tips. Daggers like icicles hanging from the trees sparkling like Diamonds. The snowflakes fall like precious diamonds from the sky.