Cold Dance

Cold Dance

Where wanton winter dares to dance, 

there is no care for more,

 no yearning to be entwined in the arms 

of a half-choked, stale embrace, 

Waiting for the pristine, breathable air,

waiting for further icy emptiness,

waiting for January's discontent

with crumbs, more than a lingering taste,

In a hungry world where desire dare not saunter its entry.

Waiting for sunshine to burst and shatter,

melting the blue-eyed bitterness 

that stifles all affection's desire

with remorse, dying unexpressed.

Pray just one hint of a merry moment's moving

to explode the frozen facade of farce

into countless shards of sorrow....

       with heartache feasts for the morrow.

In a darkened world where light dare not tiptoe its entry.

Yet, dare refreeze each crystalline captured moment

within its snowflake, precious hexagon,

          born of darkness squeezing light,

     woefully wrapped, forever entrapped.

For if courage dared, tyrant-tossed floods of lust

might tide rush across the hungry mind,

surge to empathetically purge

    a stone broken heart of loneliness 

           In an icy bitter world where warmth dares not waltz its entry.

For only can outstretched, listening arms embrace

    where passion safety-seeks compassion,

       where snowy mounds bury love unfounded

beneath a surrendered, futile resistance.

Drawn into that savage chill, faith fuels the wishful will,

seeks solace and soaks, silently evokes

 needy floods forever freed to rest

     in clarity's puddle piles to melt no more 

in a desperate world where deed be done and need be damned.

~P.S. Colley~

c. Jan. 2025