Let me ask you,
Is it supposed to snow again
in the caverns of my heart?

Is the wind supposed to blow
through cracks hard and brittle
feeling its way like icy fingers,
looking for warmth but
not finding any.

Do you have any ideas,
on how to make a heart melt,
one cold as an artic night
with no hope
of being thawed?

Is there some magic,
in that wand made of
silver and gold?

Come, touch me I beg
before the shattering begins
and I am done
and it will be too late
for me to ask.... you!

Kay Ekwall©2011