The Girl All Clothed In Winter

How brightly she glows all clothed in winter As Springtime opens its limbs to hold her It flourishes with life yet it is blind To the gray of her face and the white on her shoulder It cannot see the absence of green In her tiny, pale, trembling frame Still the sun smiles down so she lies on the ground Willing her winter away In the warmth she lingers and runs through her fingers Blades of the grass and she ponders: Why, though tender The heat of the Spring, though loving, though green Does little to thaw or mend her There she lies until agonized she cries Her fingers burn, the fiery grass sears them She desperately screams pleas for help to the Spring But the Spring does nothing, for it cannot hear them She fades away but the pain stays aflame The gray of her face burnt blacker than cinder The ashes she leaves cover the trees Turning the Springtime white as winter And the Spring now weeps and shrivels its leaves It hardens and slowly grows colder It mourns and swells and wishes like hell That it had seen the white on her shoulder.