Her heart lies dormant beneath the floorboards of her hearth,
cold, lifeless, not beating.
No one knows why she walks about unfeeling,
even when the cold wind blows or the storms come.
She walks as if she’s not drenched from head to foot
nor riddled with icicles from her eyebrows to the tips of her hair.
An ice queen she is,
through and through.
And yet when the first rays of the sun of summer
pierces the frost that envelopes her being
you can see,
apple blossom cheeks,
lips as red as strawberries ripe,
her eyes glistening like morning dews.
And her heart, oh, how can you not hear her beating heart?
From the floorboards she removes her treasure,
and places it upon her chest.
And she is one with the morning sun,
and she dances to the tune of revelry
underneath the blossoming tree.
Gone is the ice queen replaced by her sister warm.
The summer queen has come and with her
the land opened up to the heat of the blazing orb.
That brings out the buds of seeds already sown,
and into the valley green the flowers bloom,
and the butterflies come in a haze of purple and blue,
and you know that the winter has ended,
and it is time to sing a merry tune.
– The Elusive Scribe 020513-