with wisps of lace.
Blue and ivory don't stain
They shade her face.
Tips of her toes grace the floor
As she floats trailing snow
From room to room, door to door
Almost as if she doesn't know
Her destination. This home
Seems a maze
For her to roam
Hinting her path in wintery glaze.
I find footprints made of frost
Circling round and round
Suggesting she's lost,
But I've heard the sound
Of her crying. Ice chips falling
Glittering from her eyes
Like crystal bawling
With cobalt dyes
Tumble then shatter.
And on the rarest chance
I've entered before not after
I find myself in a trance.
She glides from ethereal suspension,
Floating fluid in any direction.
Somewhat transparent but not unseen
She seems a celestial figurine,
Something composed to define
Beauty's highest measuring line.
In a flowing gown of white
I swear she'd glow in stygian night.
I don't think she's adrift,
Unsure where to go.
I believe some rift
Caused her to freeze.
And I understand
Cracks cause things to split apart.
No way to demand,
Or ever have planned
How people will grow,
New notions evolving till eventually
The divide can't be denied. Although,
The break may not occur mutually.
I imagine this spectral Winter sprite
Spending hours waiting for the sight
Of her particular knight
To come home despite
His insistence things would never be alright.
He perhaps said, "This is a burial site
Not a home. The longer together the worse the blight."
Or perhaps I simply want to see similarity.
Frostbit -- lost a hand trying to touch her.
I don't know how to get closer.