Sparkle-shadows hem you in,
Marshmallow caps where growth has been;
Wait, my soul, be still, and pause,
Spring will bloom when Winter thaws.
Morning sun on frozen hips
draws out a cry of pain;
where joints are stiff, the brilliant glow
can feel so inhumane.
Yet how will frosty thoughts grow warm
if not for gleaming light?
And how will icy heart thaw out
if it can’t see what’s right?
There are times when the truth hurts – but denial hurts more. May we be wise in how we deal with the truth in our lives!
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