Nature, with her frozen glance,
Proves to us that she’s immortal.
Time chokes minutes with its hands
Slowly squeezing the aorta.
Naked trees in passion sway,
Sweeping stars, while none will fall.
Icy puddles mark my way--
Dark like windows of one’s soul.
Freezing doves sit on a cable
Staring at the pale sky.
Wind-- the hand that rocks the cradle,
Softly sings a lullaby.
Thus I linger, sad and dreary,
Breathing in the silent night.
Shaking lips still prove my theory,
It’s so cold-- dreams freeze in flight.
[This message has been edited by Master (edited 01-23-2000).]