I'd love to
Live on
An artic island
To watch the snowflakes
Move across the water
To cover you
In white
Feel breezes
Truly ice
See skies so
Friendly they
Smile so
Threatening they
Growl

Ah, only to be an artic squirrel,
To sleep till the cold sword past,
Dreaming of green--
Below that cold artic slash.

Only rousing self when the sword hits my sleep,
It pierces my burrow,
Slaying the colors and the maiden,
With its merciless degree.

Ah, to awake to darkness, but with light coming from the door,
The cold sword is sheathed,
And my dreams are restored.