She softens against warmth
despite her will,
only for the longing to dawn upon her—
to be touched unlike her icy angst,
the daughter of greys
and cold tides swept across frosted sea,
made of soft fractals of blue
like ashen dust of molten passion
now frozen in time's cruel flow,
falling to an inevitable fate
decided for every pure entity.
White as sheet, snow furs the trees,
graces a hat over mountains,
glinting like a mine of jagged ambers
under the soft sunshine,
as if an ornate tale of cold
mating with warmth
to birth the apricity of winter
we relish unlike any season.
#sky
#poetry
U