To the One Person, No Matter How Afar We Are I Know She Truly Cares

didicate to the one lady who feels compelled to write the most compelling reviews of my work only a precious few are willing to peruse, and honey no matter how tall you are you stand four feet higher than i. THESE N.Y.C. DAYS WERE CRUEL AND MIGHTY IN NUMBE Icicles of lead Snowflakes of steel The wind a gasp of liquid loss From every branch hung clear spears of the majesty from 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 until 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 a wolf fanged wind and an axe of frigidness And yet that one icicle stayed it’s place on a branch of births and deaths Suddenly hail of concrete and stones were heaved 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 innards of regret i felt And by the way, icicles forged of lead never melt (c) 2011.....Phreepoetree ~free cee!~