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.
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