Frozen
The latent pace of winter-tide drifts on,
hibernal winds exhale a frosty dawn,
the gentle warmth of summer’s long-since gone,
now ‘midst the jagged ice the sun lies torn.
Of broken heart she bleeds, to frigid pools,
a weary spectral light for life to take;
ethereal displays of winter jew’ls
reflect her soul on tears of downy flake.
Emotion spent she falls to deep repose,
where afternoon dies young, bereft of light,
‘cept for a moonlight serenade that flows
across the down that softly quilts the night.
Encased within her dreams of grief and pain,
a frozen world of beauty breathes in vain.
Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010
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