When winter comes we'll meet again,
When the jewel frost numbs my pain
And stills the time that flows around
So I can fly and not touch the ground.

Mortality is the sweetest gift on earth:
Mother to this girl abandoned at birth,
Child to this angel robbed of her halo,
All to this poet bleeding in the snow.

If my spouse is darkness of despair,
And my mother sorrow pure and bare,
Am I human or an angel of charcoal
In search for deliverance and my soul?

So I wait for feelings to pass me by,
In bitter cold when I cannot even cry
For winter freezes my blood and face
And really exist neither time nor space.

Then will I see if I am what I desire,
Or if I must live through ice and fire
And never know the beauty of death
Nor expire that so craved last breath.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

AN: Here. . . a poem I actually like, lol. So, what do you think? Do you
understand the meaning? I hope so. . . *smile*!