Beneath the Ice

From my balcony, I spy
frozen waves stretching beneath a winter sky.
I imagine how they must long to reach,
to once again kiss their pebble and sand beach.
I understand, too well, their dream.
I know the pining’s of the icicled stream.
We long to burst from our hold.
We long to sing stories destined to be told.
Alas, we must be content to wait.
Surpassing the snow appears not to be our immediate fate.
So, frozen, we sit.
Frozen, we stare.
We wait for our shackles to thaw.
We wait for just a taste of fresh air.

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