Persephone's Lament
An icicle outside my
window takes its time
melting, crystal by crystal,
like a winter guest
that has come to stay
the season.
Winter is like this...
especially in the depths of February,
the endless month, when
an infinity can
move drop by drop,
and time no longer passes
but dissolves,
like the icicle
that begrudgingly melts
solely to appease
my watchful eye
desperate for spring.