Frozen

Her whispers frost any pane

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

Ages ago

Caused her to freeze.

And I understand

Divisions' ease.

Cracks cause things to split apart.

No way to demand,

Foresee, chart,

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.