Open season on interpretations: "il neige"

Bustamante went over 10 minutes again, damn it. And this afternoon I'm to go out to Lutheran for Infectious Diseases. Hope it's fun; I zoned out something awful in the 2 hours of GI lecture today.

Snowflakes flower and grow,
         linger like kisses on lips and eyes,
                They are silent, bright shadows,
falling soft and slow.

                     Winter draws breath, waits,
lets snowflakes dance and fly.
       They are children, as we were 
                              once, long ago.

Ice holds the air in crystal,
            braves the winter breath.
                       Morning lingers, like winter,
Wrapped in silent snow.
                     NsB 11-02-03 "il neige"