Snowdrop

This is inspired by a couple of my friends who went through hard times.

Minutes as hours seemed to pass,

Her porcelain face a frozen mask,

Sadness gave no hour of grace,

Melting crimson drops from a china face,

But she hid the warming of glacier eyes,

And waited ‘til blackened skies to cry,

As waves of anguish rippled through,

Producing red from cream and blue,

Until Nephthys had played her part,

And the sun rose glinting like bottle glass,

Spotlight to the night’s new wounds,

That had been observed by the stars and Moon;

Fine lines become holly berry and bold,

She gains no wealth from solar gold,

And neither warmth nor light from the Midas rays,

Can thaw icy despair in a snowflake’s gaze,

Merely sparkle on her ribboned skin,

And echo a snowstorm howling within,

Her smile is brittle as icicle and rare as pearl,

Fragile as mistletoe yet to unfurl,

Yet beneath the drift of silver snow,

A solid heart of gold forever glows.

The End

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