The Tale Of The Ice Mage
The Tale Of The Ice Mage
The chalet where the ice mage lives;
An illusion of diamond; an aura of bejewelled dreams it gives;
The roses and the daisies have been transfigured into crystal and sapphire;
The moon of summer twilight is charmed away to a rimy, bewitched lair.
The titillating environs;
Enchantments cast in the forms of hauntingly lonely songs;
Indigo tapestry;
A wand sprinkles white confetti on each cedar, every tree.
An opal rug, a garden without green;
Brilliantly blinding, its snowy sheen;
The crests and troughs of brushwood teal;
A loch of pearly reflections ever still.
Witch of winter with her hairpins of icicles dazzling;
When she passed by the shrubs, they are jinxed to turquoise glimmering;
Chokers and bracelets of silver;
No partner, she waltzes over the frosted river.
Alone in the topaz abode;
Fables of the disappearing year she hums, silence her friend, yet a load;
Strumming a quartz harp of the nights of hail;
Her soul boards a golden ship and sets sail.