Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #379
Like Icicles
by Belinda Roddie
Like icicles, your breath descends in spikes
and rises into towers in the cold
room that we both are settled in. Your eyes
have no flame as they gaze at me. We hold
hands, but our skin does not generate heat.
The windows are all frosted over, as
the winter "wonderland" outside deceives -
it is, instead, a merciless and vast
realm of lifelessness. Snow has choked the hills;
blizzards have reduced trees to sad, slumped
renditions of themselves. The morning chills
have turned the grass to pale, blue soggy lumps
that don't even shine. I pull you toward me,
but I cannot warm you. We both will freeze.
by Belinda Roddie
Like icicles, your breath descends in spikes
and rises into towers in the cold
room that we both are settled in. Your eyes
have no flame as they gaze at me. We hold
hands, but our skin does not generate heat.
The windows are all frosted over, as
the winter "wonderland" outside deceives -
it is, instead, a merciless and vast
realm of lifelessness. Snow has choked the hills;
blizzards have reduced trees to sad, slumped
renditions of themselves. The morning chills
have turned the grass to pale, blue soggy lumps
that don't even shine. I pull you toward me,
but I cannot warm you. We both will freeze.
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