I remember the soft snowflakes
Delicate as lace
Framed by the cold frigid moonlight
Falling gently to the ground.
Shrouding the world in a pure white blanket
Which sought to cleanse another winter
But pure white turned to grey
And the peaceful night became another dirty day.
Alison Jean Hankinson
This is my contribution for d’Verse open night.
The image is from pixabay,
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Hues of Hankinson 
There is nothing more lovely more magical than freshly lain snow – and then (you are right) it becomes a grey dirty slush and the magic is gone, and is replaced with the fear of falling – well, it is for me!
Anna :o]
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There is a lot of truth in this poem. Well done. 🙂
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I am glad that our winter of pure white blanket turned slushy grey is now gone ~ It was magical while it lasted ~
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I usually like the first snowfalls covering the ground. The peaceful night can turn to a dirty day
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Snow is beautiful until daily life dirties it. Well written.
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‘But pure white turned to grey and the peaceful night became another dirty day.’ sigh.. such a stellar closing on this!❤️
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Ouch, those are two killer lines at the end, after luring us in with lyrical beauty!
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Lovely poem, but I was not yet ready to be reminded of winter. It’s barely spring here.
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