Frost Flowers
Tell me your stories,
fair little ballerinas,
Do you dance around like swans,
looking for love
in this cold difficult world?
When you come down
in despair, dangling
like parachutes
with the wind,
does you hair fly open
and your skirts ablaze
making you blush tenderly?
When you fall gently
on stems and mould back
beauty and mystery
into a dying life,
And when it's time
to die slowly,
pour into
the heart of your vast mother,
do you cry a teardrop,
hoping that next year,
your shoes will last longer,
just like the sparkle on your cheeks,
on a frosty moonlit night?
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