Glass

May 2, 2017 | 0 comments

White surrounds the one who wants to play,
The young one, who wishes to seize the day.
I, the wanderer who must take her care,
Am dazed by the shine of icy glare.

The glare catches my empty gaze,
Stirring me from my mental haze.
Like a beam straight from the sky,
Wakes a feeling, makes me want to fly.

Step by step, minute by minute,
The breeze makes the air quiet.
The snow that’s falling slow,
Makes the ice patch thrive and glow.

Ice beneath my feet,
In cold, breathing deep.
An hour seems to pass,
The ice shatters like a pane of glass.

Shards of crystal stare at me,
They pause, then shift suddenly.
What once was cracked and broken,
Aligns itself in order again.

Through grey and icy weather,
Broken bonds form back together.
Though the cold may freeze me,
The warmth of light will free me.

The young one tumbles and sings,
Always pleased by the simple things.
As she makes her way back to me,
I once again feel that I am free.

About the Author

Thomas Marshall

Guest Contributor