Return of the Ice Queen

credited photo:

The wind outside is howling mad

As I sit in the armchair, glad

Of the fire’s warmth and crackle

Which subsides the freezing cackle

Of the trees, outside they freeze

In the harsh, merciless breeze

Of the storm that rages further

As the world grows ever older.

I reach my hand and take my cup

I smell its vapor, drink it up.

I place my hand upon my book.

I turn a page and while I look

At the frozen window glass,

I could see a shadow pass.

Startled in my soft armchair,

I get up and try to glare

At the chaos of the night,

Where all is dark, there is no light.

I hear three knocks outside my door,

Someone’s standing there for sure.

I cross the room, listen with care.

On this cold night, who could be there?

Three knocks again, and then a whisper:

“I have come home at last dear sister.”

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