Ice Cream

I saw an ice cream cone
In the middle of winter -
In the middle of a blizzard,
Snow settling on the frozen treat,
A thousand crystal sprinkles camouflaged in white
A thousand pinpricks of starlight
Landing on the treasure,
Standing discarded on the sidewalk.
It was pristine, untarnished by man or God,
So I left it there, hoping that no one will eat it,
That its innocence will last,
That it will survive people walking by,
And knowing that if it does,
The ice cream will never melt.

Or in prose:
I saw an ice cream cone on the sidewalk one day, just standing there upright with a beautiful swirl of what appeared to be vanilla. It was one of those cheap flaky cones with a flat bottom and really not enough volume to hold everything it was supposed to and it was standing there in the middle of a blizzard, but still it was a tasty and delicious treat and the child inside me was screaming for me to pick it up. Snow was settling on it, studding the whiteness with glittering stars so that every immaculate curve and line was outlined with incandescent sprinkles. The snow, coupled with the chill of winter, preserved the cone in its pristine state. It was amazing.

As I stood there staring at the heavenly dessert and wondering who would discard something so beautiful without so much as a taste, I realized I had come to a complete stop in the middle of a crowded sidewalk and was quickly becoming a large nuisance to just about everyone. Grumbling loudly and mumbling rudely to themselves, people were stepping around me and by association the ice cream cone as well. I felt slightly proud that I was contributing to its continued existence, a feeling that was quickly erased when I picked up the cone and brought it to my lips.

And stopped. Who was I to destroy this work of art? It had survived man, it had survived the elements, and it had survived god. Who was I to come by now and do what so many before me had avoided out of deference? I put the cone down and stood up slowly, watching it carefully. I kept staring at it as I backed away; I couldn't turn away. A car honked and jolted me out of my reverie. I spun around, looking wildly for the source of the noise and then, remembering the cone, turned back to see it disappear into the crush of pedestrian traffic.