Fallen, and frozen,
From, my cold cheek,
To her form of white, and cloaked in death.
Where warmth, turned bleak,
And Heaven, drew a line, on her, raw flesh,
I, too, drew a mark, on sculpted skin,
Until sadness, was all I felt.
A name, as mine,
Like mine, is mine,
It was the mark, to unity.
An abandonment, of my pride,
My fame, my graces, my stature,
Here are roaring tears, for the woman I knew,
And loved, as though, she were
My child, born from, a cradle of straw,
I loved her; indeed, I loved her.
Her face, so round, and eyes, agleam,
A body, so full, and arms, so long,
I measured her, in my truest place.
My heart, is now, a place of grief,
I sing, its song,
I sing, the unmerciful song,
That has placed hatred, on my soul,
Sorrow, has morphed,
Pain, has absorbed,
All the soil, beneath my feet.
Her face, encased in ice,
Winter, has made a fine print,
Love, has been replaced,
With a tear.
Beauty, has been replaced,
With a sculpture, of ice,
And I still, draw it close, for a kiss.