snowflakes in the grass

What makes me unique

Is what maketh you;

That which occurs to us

That which we do

Choices, reactions,

Hopes, dreams and rue

The much argued nuance

In each of our hue

Such beauty and burden

In this spectrum's extent;

An inevitable cause

For both pride and contempt

A world-renowned recipe

With scents too well known

But don't lose your appetite,

"We have food at home" —

Too rich to reduce

To a simmer of grey

Are parallels and contrasts

A stone's throw away

8 billion authors

With stories to tell

A colourful compendium

by me, you et al.

‘Like every snowflake,

each person is unique’

Mundane from afar,

Up close, a mystique

Yet my own self-perception

is bound by its home

Thus what makes me unique

Is no clear path to roam

On numerous drafts

I’ve pondered and inked

The best ways to laud

Just what's so distinct

Perhaps...

There’s no science behind it,

it’s not by design,

The grass is just green,

and so, therefore, is mine.