Monday, November 29, 2010
Cold winds howl, flushing my cheeks.
Looking down, I see that you are changing.
Morphing from liquid to ice, before my eyes.
Trapping all that's left of vegetation,
slowly encrypting it for another season.
"How long will the process take?" I wonder,
hours, days, a week maybe?
Too cold to stay and watch, I leave.
The next time I see you, you'll be solid ice.
Awaiting the many months for your water
and beauty to return to me.