Red Ice

by: Thom Jenkins -  Add Comment...

The blood drains from her face, Which fades to a negative of a former image. Her beauty still existent but merely a reflection. Not real, not true but not lost absolutely. Not yet. A solitary kiss marching forth from the Opposing army would have redeemed him In her eyes and in so much more than that. But it did not come, just the hum-drum Of the soldiers' feet as they turn away And leave. Doors are slammed as triumphant retorts to Killer lines that underline arguments whose roots No one can remember. They are buried too deep in the barren, Hard, clay soil. Enzymes hydrolyse the root's Components. But only slowly, it takes time too long. She promised herself that she would become an Ice Queen. Greeting all with a front of cold. No man would melt her. No man would Penetrate her glacial prison. Her kingdom. Inevitably, but unforeseen, The Ice Age passed. Time, not man, defrosts. Time in which our Ice Queen would reflect On the loves she lost.