She was ice.
Her eyes were crisp.
Her hair was white.
No one liked to see
Her creeping up behind them.
It was the things she brought with her.
The death
And the cold.
It showed up suddenly
With one single breath.
He was fire.
He was heat.
He brought life
And took with him warmth.
People laughed
As he brought joy
And passion.
But he hated his season
When he was so far away.
Once a year, their paths would cross.
When the fire
Was slowly changing
And forming into frost.
He liked to watch
As she chased away the birds.
And he would sing to her
In soft, soothing words.
"You're back again?
To steal my flame?"
"I wish I could-"
She chokes out,
"I wish I could bare another name."
"But Winter is beautiful!"
He shouted.
"Then why can't people see?"
She pouted.
"Because they're blind.
All, of course, except for me."
He grabbed her ice-cold hand,
And a shiver went through his body.
"Summer-"
"Hush, my darling,
I shall be fine.
I'd rather be frozen and alive
Than without you
And completely dead inside."
Their lips touched softy
And his spine frosted over,
And her lips began to burn.
They pulled away,
Reluctantly but sure.
"You must go,"
She whispered.
"I know,"
He sighed.
And he walked away slowly,
With his burning heart aflame.
Branded with the letters
Of her stunning name.
"We shall meet again!"
He called over the snow-peeked mountains.
"When your heart begins to thaw,
And mine begins to freeze.
When my heat is rushed away
With your chilling breeze.
I shall watch it all with awe!"
They were beautiful together,
But imperfect, all the same.
They were always torn apart
Because they bore two opposite names.
Fire
And Ice.
