Snowflakes plummet from a black sky:
A flurry of fallen feathers.
The queen of winter’s icy, cold tears—
Her sorrow escapes through weather.
She is not ready to let go,
Grasping on to time before spring;
When all the buds emerge, anew,
When all the birds begin to sing.
When spring arrives, both green and gold,
She knows it is time to depart;
But she will return, soon enough—
You cannot change her icy heart.
Though she cannot linger any longer,
Her heart is cold, but her grief is stronger.
A flurry of fallen feathers.
The queen of winter’s icy, cold tears—
Her sorrow escapes through weather.
She is not ready to let go,
Grasping on to time before spring;
When all the buds emerge, anew,
When all the birds begin to sing.
When spring arrives, both green and gold,
She knows it is time to depart;
But she will return, soon enough—
You cannot change her icy heart.
Though she cannot linger any longer,
Her heart is cold, but her grief is stronger.
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