Icicles

Icicles drip in the midmorning sun
Like a Saline bag feeding your arm.
Intravenous emotions that fill my veins
While my heart has cause for alarm.
My frosty exterior matches the scene
That I observe through a window of mist.
My demeanors unsteady, like walking on ice
Around the edge of a virtual abyss.
Thoughts of the future while denying my past
Relying on forgiveness and repent.
Making a list, of often unwanted gifts
A waste, of the money I have spent.
Another drip falls from the cold icicles
Vanishing, once it hits the ground.
Wasting away, like we all will one day
To a silence, that's serene yet profound.