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       ICE MAIDEN

      Ice,-

      tough,

      hard,

      cold.

      The shrouded shell

      of atrophied personality;

      the grim facade

      of sometime riches fallen in a well.

      Ice,-

      pure,

      crystal,

      compacted.

      Frozen tears

      of disappointments' bout

      transparent yet obdurate;

      immune to pick and probe

      of sharpened wit or warmth without.

      Ice,-

      beware,

      bewildering

      barrier

      of spirits flight;

      filterer of thought

      and dampener of psyche,

      your blanket dims

      the brightest light.

      Ice,-

      tasteless,

      blue,

      bleak.

      Pour weak from warmth within;

      turn fast to water

      ere the dance be done,

      before the heart cools

      and the pulse is thin.

      Accursed ice,-

      bedamned,

      bedevilled,

      begone!

      Your time is come

      for still the world is young

      and nature's kind

      for springs' begun.

       DONUTS

      Gleaming, glazed, precise,

      the immaculate rows of cultured donuts

      reflect the crystal glow

      of polished glass and lustrous stainless steel -

      the perfected prism; the proven franchise magic mix -

      converging all to inevitable success.

      The formula defines all aspects

      of the structured layers of support -

      to move the short lived product

      from mix to oven to shelf to tray, and hand to mouth

      for those who choose to pause and think, drink,

      and be merry for a brief instant, with a donut -

      in hurried breaks from fast lanes of our time.

      Almond eyed, sometimes the dragon-cat; the mini hostess,

      brusque and bold, and cold, snatches money from the proffered hand

      as quick as claw, the pretty gaze ablaze

      in discontent as sterile as the the stainless,

      and foreign to the color tones of warmth;

      contrasting nurtured smell of welcome coffee;

      a slipping cleft of hidden lifequake yet to come.

      By the window sit the couple; elderly worn,

      gazing wistfully at the bustling street,

      sipping on their memories of slower times

      and elegance of manners past;

      numbed still from jobless misery, war, and peace precarious -

      yet grateful of the giant leap of time

      that war itself is near passe; as obsolete as chivalry.

      How little worry now, they thought;

      if only we can handle waste and wanton hate;

      and not get sick with ails, but even those dissolve

      - likely after we are gone.

      Gently they rise, poised for re-entry together,

      mutually aware, an aura of support

      in a non supportive capsule world of detached freedom.

      She gathers the cups and plates onto the tray and he carries them,

      slowly, carefully to the counter; gently pushing them toward the mini-hostess -

      they both smiled, and made their pained way to the door, opened it,

      as the noise rushed in; they enter the outside bravely,

      quickly, like jumping into a high wave, and strike out strongly,

      back in the swim with mayhem.

      The almond eyes follow, fill, and soften in admiration;

      the tense mini frame loosens, and becomes a girl.

      The rosy afterglow of the couple pervades,

      briefly all is in harmony with the warm welcoming, immaculate,

      brown tone tiled floor, of the coffee and donut store.

       WIDOWER

      We danced our dance so well,

      we did the most we could

      with time we had, and more;

      by effort gained and some by chance

      around the crystal we would go

      like phantoms in a magic box,

      twirling friendly shapes on those around

      dancing to the tunes we knew so well,

      calling them in sequence as we sent

      our future music on its merry

      way to us, to fuel our feelings

      for the dances yet to come.

      We danced our dance so well

      we did the best we dare

      with what was there, and more

      until the dance was done -

      we had our fun

      and we had won our future,

      tickets for the tunes to come,

      but stern the piper called

      and played no more-

      said one of us must leave the floor

      forever, and you were taken, crying

      to a more important place

      in a coach I couldn't follow.

      I was left to find another-

      waiting lonely in a corner

      seeking solace and a partner

      for the final taste of music

      when the piper plays

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