You fought so hard,
held on so long,
your courage a cloak of inspiration.
When your grip came unglued,
you fell in a blaze of glory –
only to be sucked in to subservience,
a minion in Jack Frost’s ranks,
You won’t go down easy –
if warm heart could free you,
you’d walk away from this,
but winter is long and harsh,
and I know you won’t be walking away this time.
Do you hear my cheers –
do you see my salute?
I wave my flag,
hat over heart,
and let my breath freeze
in your honour…
Instinct in overdrive,
claws at the ready;
perception of danger
makes blood pound unsteady.
Attack mode’s not needed
at this point in time –
wisdom will teach you
when heart rate should climb!
Do you ever fight the wrong battles?
A seed, you were –
tiny and insignificant in the vastness of the cosmos,
floating on the wings of the wind
until you carved out your resting place.
Your roots fought hard for every square inch of soil.
You grew and prospered despite cold or wet,
rock or worm,
plenty or want,
and here you are,
bursting with beauty,
a sky-blue conundrum
to rival the hue of the heavens themselves.
You have chosen your battles well, my champion!
Those who are about to die
Et tu, Brute?
Delivering wound in Russian roulet
Smiling the while, this game you play
Silences dawn, and drears the day
A so-called friend?
Ideas grow as germs that wend
Their scurrilous way to journey’s end
The better to bow and then to bend
What do you gain?
You drive the nail to screw the pain
And follow blow with blow in vain
You cannot lock me up again
Will you let go?
Your work just wakes the beast below
And anger rises, growling low
His power finds, in undertow,