will it smash?
will the white- ice crack?
You've been left behind
like the demons in my mind,
and its so unkind.
the tree's iced bear,
the branches stripped,
the tree bark flairs
but winter's bite, has made it shake and quiver-shake.
Sun's shadows warm,
and slime does form.
it dribbles down your bright red form,
Your ice cap drips.
Your cold chain twists
and catches onto weak sunlight's grip.
the snows not missed
the birds have hissed.
Waiting for sweet sunlight kissed.
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