That ice chip on your shoulder
must really pin you down,
restrict your movement,
That frigidaire stare
won’t melt hearts, either.
“Thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes,”
and your cool distance bites extremities.
Perhaps the milk of human kindness
could melt your polar peculiarities,
soften harsh views,
render winter helpless,
usher in a brave new global warming.
So while you mull that heart-warming proposal over,
I’ll don protective winter gear,
and wait for spring thaw.
Cold quote is from Shakespeare’s King Richard III