She was a flower in winter her soul she could not hide.
For such a delicate flower did not belong in darkened sky's.
She liked to share her color but the oblivious man denied.
And written in his hollow eyes were the words of the cold and blind.
And so this flower and winter had grown to fear the storms she wrote her songs in silence and locked her thoughts in pretty jars.
And soon her color faded, her smile less defined
And etched into her metal soul were the words of the cold and blind.
-S.M.
