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Persephone's Lament

An icicle outside my

window takes its time

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melting, crystal by crystal,

like a winter guest

that has come to stay

the season.

Winter is like this...

especially in the depths of February,

the endless month, when

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an infinity can

move drop by drop,

and time no longer passes

but dissolves,

like the icicle

that begrudgingly melts

solely to appease

my watchful eye

desperate for spring.