[ This is an original poem. The meter is heavily inspired by Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "The Lady of Shalott" (1832) ]
When day gives o'er to shadow's sway
And night begins to have her way,
Starlight on water captures eyes
From mirror point, way upon high.
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
Two rivers have long since run dry
As the waning sun burns in the sky.
And, lo! To hear a seagull cry!
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
Deathly still, like a tomb,
Standing solemn beneath the moon,
About her, chrysanthemums in bloom,
Like a spell of surest doom -
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
She knows it will be coming soon -
Every garden must be pruned.
Wounds open, petals strewn;
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
Holly trees and glittering towers
Are no more found in golden hour.
And yet, within this perfumed bower,
By some strange and secret power:
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
Across the land her feet have brought her;
This dark, lowly, and fragile daughter.
Of love and light the road has taught her.
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
In languor she lingers until the sight
Of dawn's first hopeful, piercing light.
Her will entreats her to invite
The mainspring of her daily plight.
The ice begins to thaw and crack.
No swords, no bows will she bring to fight.
No sorrowing tale will she rewrite.
She understands the truth outright:
The ice has begun to thaw and crack.
The past was never laid to rest;
It blazes like coal within her breast
To put her through another test.
And now, there is no turning back.
