Melt Poem by Rebecca Springsteen

It's snowing, it's nothing out of the ordinary.
I watch it fall on my sweatshirt, as it melts away.
It never takes long for them to melt.
Why?
Must they melt while no one gets to look at their beauty long enough to memorize.
Why do the dead leaves get to stay longer then the snowflakes?
They always seem to be there, even if no one wants them there.
They aren't listed as pretty or beautiful.
Why must they stay?
To remind us?