Brittle Blossoms

The flowers of the winter
Are the teardrops of the ice.
The shimmer of the silence
And the chill of sacrifice.
They whisper sweet endearments
As they climb the broken wall
Brave beyond their brittle seeming-
But they are the first to fall.

Flowers of the winter
Are the heralds of the snow.
Where the Moon shines in still water
And the north winds softly blow
In the pause before the morning
When the ancient shadows call.
They are beauty beyond dreaming-
But they are the first to fall.

Flowers of the winter
Are the children of the storm.
Terrible within their splendor
And the lonely, lost, forlorn.
Each slumbers with their secrets
Where the stillness covers all
And the darkness sleeps unending-
But they are the first to fall.

Flowers of the winter
Of the shattered sun and sky.
Sing of distant moon arising,
Sing of souls that never die.
Sing of secrets, sing of silence
Sing of shadows bleak and tall.
Sing of fragile blooms of winter -
Blooms that are the first to fall.