written by: huntersjames
Comes the frost upon our windowpane
We feel its chill but touch it we cannot
Lays its pattern out as an artist cloaked in pain
Until his creation is bethought.
The world surrenders locked away in rime
Each fragile finger reaching out to touch
Always falling short, each broken frozen first.
Warmed by perspiration, tears and fears
We leave our scar it breaks the lattice pattern
The frost yet still endures so cold aloof.
Silent unawares long rest unworried
By Spring so far away in love with distant lands
Its promise all we have is buried
Under snow still drifting in our Soul.