this floor is frozen with cold <br />and <br />the windows have <br />jack frosts <br />artwork <br />written all over <br />them. <br /> <br />while the people outside <br />my glass <br />walk like icicles <br />taking their <br />first steps <br />and the trees stand like <br />brittle statues <br />forever on <br />task. <br /> <br />my world is ice <br />and cold <br />and a shivering <br />hand. <br /> <br />but <br /> <br />there is warmth here <br />though <br />and they will never <br />know <br />that. <br /> <br />buried <br />way <br />down <br />deep <br />in the glow <br />of my sputtering ember <br />heart. <br /> <br />lies fire.<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-ice-lies-fire/
