I Was Led To Lead

I WAS LED TO LEAD Icicles of lead Snowflakes of steel The wind a gasp of liquid loss From every branch hung clear spears of yesterday’s mighty weather A reminder An appointment with the truth No scarf could keep me warm as I walked and wandered away Puddles awaiting ice to be And quilted jackets were not much protection at all I continued to stroll with blood red cheeks and lips cracked and chapped as well I came upon an icicle whose voice only I could hear As it refused to drip, to grow thinner or to melt A steadfast ice cube for Mother Nature’s rum and coke and a line or two wouldn't hurt Stoic was the snow and the ice wouldn’t say a word No one to stroll the Streets of sleet to seek a secret sauce An oblique, opaque frost of frozen memories mixed with minutes of monotony and a wolf fanged wind with an axe of frigidness And yet that one icicle stayed it’s place on a branch of births and deaths Then came down hail of concrete and stones from the sky as each cloud began to bleed And some bodies were frozen in place A horrid day with horrid weather and a horrid date with a “come hither” from heroin, sweat and the intestines of regret And by the way, icicles forged of lead never melt (c) 2011.