Ode to Frosty
 
 
Softly snowing, my eyes take in the flakes that collide.
Reaching inside, their heat melts my freeze.
How ice melts ice remains a mystery, yet the idea came 
and I dared to believe its truth.
The belief lingers that only flame can hold power over the frozen....
Different thoughts invade me.
Mother is resting.  Cold covers her and she accepts, making her beautiful.
My heart warms, as in this moment, I too am open to dormancy.
Permission has been granted to refrain from the outside, allowing
depth to dance.
So, I melt, walking hand in hand with the snow woman.

Julee Heit's Questions:

I am not a poet. I do, however, love to play with words and imagery. I question if I am sloppy in text and phrase, almost too simplisctic. Yet, I hope there is some charm in the honesty. I am doing this as a challenge to myself to be open in sharing what comes from me and putting it "out there." Not a single person has ever been allowed to read what I write, whether poems or any other type of writing.

My question concerns this --  What do you see or feel when you read this?

Please ignore the impulse to technically critique me.I am interested in what feelings I invoke.

Thank you for taking the time.