I do not see the snowflakes

I do not see the snowflakes
The beauty of perfectly round disks, symmetrical and true
When the monsters up above look down from toying with us
And decide to grant temporary happiness in the form of a winter's night
I do not see the snowflakes
I see father's hand, pulling me through a dark night, feet wrapped up in snowshoes
I see mother's hands as they guide mine through bread
I see the stage, spotlights blinding me, one clear note ringing loud and true as it falls outside
I see grandma and hop pop singing together
The few times I've caught them
Chins raised, faces merry and bright
I see the tree, shining and glimmering throughout the darkness and
I see my menorah, 9 firey candles lighting their way through the night
I see an unshoveled driveway
I see mom and dad's door locked, hear their angry voices from within
I see less boots in the doorway
I see only three plates at dinner some nights
I see papers hidden away in drawers
I see me, crumpled, lying in the snow, without the energy or will to move myself from freezing
So while I see many terrible, beautify, horrible, odd, wonderful, mystifying things
I do not see the snowflakes