Spring's Unheard Eulogy
The breeze moans his sorrows tonight
Whispering a broken cry
Pleading for someone, anyone to listen
But as the leaves begin to frost
Their golden bodices crystallize unhurried
Twirling to the ground so unworried
Do they not know, he wonders to the moon
That Spring is dying
Cradled in the arms of her murderer
That her breaths have turned to ice
And her fingers sickles of snow
As the frost landed a final blow
Do they not know, he inquires to the stars
That Winter has subverted their Queen
And her fertile queendom
In favour of chilly ashen mornings and cloud-shrouded evenings
A castle made from remnants of hopes from the masses
Hardened into bitter cold glasses
Do they not know, he calls to the sky
That they can flutter and flit
Just as gracefully, as beautifully as they please
To the frosty, unforgiving ground
But their ballet had become a homage
And their ruler has become a martyr
Dust and ash the only pieces left about her
Do they not know, he finally screams
That she is no longer the luminescent beauty she used to be
Are they not listening to
Spring's unheard eulogy?
A/N: I love Winter and it's beautiful white blanket! Which inspired this poem.
