Snowy Park

Forgiving frost,

A lazy land of love long lost.

To saunter down the icy path,

Free of pride and angels’ wrath,

To breathe the air that burns so cold,

And suddenly to see the world—

--a world so bright and drifting calm;

--a world that mellows right and wrong;

--a world that springs the soul from flesh;

--a world that paves the conscience fresh.

Nightingale in snowy park,

Singing pure as heaven’s lark.

Muffled though a tune so sprite,

--lost into the swollen white.

Fluttered wings of birds of sorrow,

Rest their flight unto the marrow.

And further,

Under yawning bridge and dripping ice,

Two lovers indulge in primal vice.

Cradled arms, in steaming breath--

--a withering rose in the chill of Death.

And the dim lights

That shadow this troubled plight,

Cast fuzzy rays into the night.

And frozen water murmurs fade,

Until no more music can be made.

Twinkled stars and nothing more,

Moonlight streaming evermore.

Gone is life, and the lark;

Lost into the snowy park.