A simple snowflake
        appeared before my eyes.
I watched
        as it fell
        gently
        toward the Earth.

“How clean,”
        I thought.
“How pure.”
This little snowflake warmed my heart,
        and as I witnessed its delicate descent,
I smiled unconsciously.

When suddenly
        my heart felt a chill
        colder than the shredding winter wind.
“It’s like no other flake!”
        I screamed within my mind.
“It is entirely unique in its beauty,
        and there shall never again be one like it!
It is Nature’s Artwork,
        and it must be saved!”

I watched
        as the snowflake
        plunged faster and faster toward the ground,
        seemingly unaware of its pernicious fate.
To preserve this snowflake
        became my instant obsession.

Without thinking,
        I lunged for the precious,
        suicidal gem,
        reaching out with my gloved hand.
Inches above the cold Earth,
        I grasped the snowflake,
        closing it securely
        within my protective palm.

Slowly I opened my hand,
        revealing only a pathetic spot
        of moisture.

– Tim Brooks

As we both drifted
        aimlessly through life,
Our lives drifted
        together,
        touching,
For a short while.

We drifted on.
And without strategy or reason,
        the currents carried us
        in different directions.

Still,
        on occasion,
        we come together.
To remember yesterday.
To cherish today.
To sing of friendship.

You were my friend then,
        as you are my friend now.
Our lives have drifted
        apart.
But, oh,
        how I look forward
        to seeing you again.

– Tim Brooks

Droplets splashing, faces
        laughing.
Merriment. Merriment.
        Joy.
Times were good. Times were
        oh so good.
Exulting present pleasures.
Yesteryear remembered.

– Tim Brooks

The tiny rock in my shoe causes a pain
          that it seems never will end.
With each placement of my sneaker
          my foot screeches in ineffable agony.
Oh! The hideous pain caused by this
          tiniest of stones is near reason to stop
          and remove my shoe.

And yet
          with my mind fixed squaredly
          on the anguish and misery in my shoe,
I momentarily set aside the perpetual suffering
          in my soul.

All previous cares and concerns
          are carried far away
          by the raging current of sorrow
          caused by this one small pebble.
I think not of the dark and hellish essence
          flowing in the blackened gutters
          of my mind’s inner passageways.
The seemingly endless torture of my days
          is wholly consumed
          and slips easily from my thoughts.

With this pebble in my shoe,
          I walk on.

– Tim Brooks