Persephone's Lament

An icicle outside my

window takes its time

melting, crystal by crystal,

like a winter guest

that has come to stay

the season.

Winter is like this...

especially in the depths of February,

the endless month, when

an infinity can

move drop by drop,

and time no longer passes

but dissolves,

like the icicle

that begrudgingly melts

solely to appease

my watchful eye

desperate for spring.