Early Frost

An early frost came, unannounced, uninvited, a carefree assassin, some indiscriminate vacuum. Bejeweled fingers scratched the pane and found their way inside; a fleeting touch, a brush with fate, a young life frozen: cryogenesis so cruel, final, so cold. An early frost came, it’s intent bore no malice as a lightning strike of icicles impaled a young heart. Those who knew and were deeply touched cried grief suffused tears: sadness so sharp, acute, so bleak. An early frost came, a misty shroud of hail, born not of unkindness or leprous evil but blind pure white neutrality. And though it bit hard that year, it’s hands the thieves of life, it’s hoary fingers could not dare to claw his memory from our minds: memory so vivid, treasured, so fond. An early frost came, life removed but not diminished; remembrance a warm retreat melting glacial pain. For heat or cold, it matters no more, an early frost has come and gone; in memory, beyond the veil of sleep, a heart and soul lives on