My sweet plastered snowflake

You are not like the rain

Soaking my face on a bad day

You are but my failed misfortune

I have not won but I have no lost

Oh, how you fall freely in the copse

Your inclement touch — a fortune passed by

Your clipped wings making you fall in full swoop

Until you come crashing upon my soft crisp hands

Oh, you are not like the frost

Freezing my already broken skin

You are the one who deepens my cry song

Like the foreign, traveling bird

Or on the carpet, my butterfly