A Crown of Ice


Rain falls like glass when the air is blistered with ice.
It causes uproars on the group as puddles are sliced.
Reflections in the water are distorted and blurred,
as the knives hit the puddles they are speared and stirred.

From a more distant view, pavements shimmer.
Lights leap off forcing footsteps to glimmer.
The fresh kiss of the ice hits my cheek,
my face made numb, and my fingers turned weak.

When crystals are falling we should make a crown,
if we just leave them, we shall surely drown.

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