Metaphorical

Snowstorm 
The beautiful crystalline snow, 
falls from the Heavens 
to the earth below. 
The wind swirls it 
with a playful gust, 
it blankets the ground 
like diamond dust.. 
When young and fresh 
it is so pristine 
nothing can be so bright, 
so clean; 
but like some youth, 
with time, 
what once was pure- 
is trampled underfoot 
and swept into the sewer. 
The shimmering, delicate flakes 
are so easy to crush 
on the street they turn 
into ugly, grey slush. 
 
Actually, this is one of my oldest poems, 
from 1984, or 1985 therabouts. If I ever 
become famous, it could be classified 
as my "juvenilia period." I will be submitting 
poems both old and new as my time permits.