A floating figure cloaked in translucent brilliance
Glides over the land, crowned in glimmering silver.
She dances a graceful duet with her own shadow,
Then descends over the land in practiced silence,
Her every step quieter than the whisper
Of a pin as it hits a floor made of glass.
She reaches out her fingers to a stained glass
Window, admiring its polished brilliance.
To the glass she offers the slightest whisper,
Which clouds it, transforming it to icy silver.
She stares at the mirror in awe, barely noticing that silence
Had fallen with the night, leaving her in cold shadows.
Realizing the truth, she touches her crown, then turns to the shadows.
“Is this what I am crowned for?” She asks the looking glass.
But only her reflection in the ice stares back, silently.
Suddenly, her mind, once free and filled with brilliant
Thoughts, feels trapped underneath her wreath of silver,
And she is overcome by the sudden urge to chase the wind’s whisper.
She flees her thoughts, flying past branches whispering
Desperate warnings as she plunges into the shadowy
Night. She doesn’t know she leaves behind a silver
Streak of frost and coats bare branches with glass.
She doesn’t know, until she turns around to a brilliant
Snow globe scene, her doing, standing in frozen silence.
It dawns on her that her coronation is not a gift, but a silent
Curse, to steal the breath of even the most cautious whisperer
And from everything else around her, to turn nature into a brilliant
Picture, but only coloured in with white and shadows.
Beautiful as it is, it may as well be carved of glass,
Captured and drained of life, with only a dusting of silver.
As her cursed fingertips turn the entire world silver,
She can find no words to fill the silence
Left by everything around her. The rose-coloured glasses
She once wore have disappeared without a whisper,
Leaving her alone in a land darkened by her own shadows.
To think she could have been something brilliant.
With a sigh, her glassy eyes turn towards the land of silver;
Sparkling, brilliant, crystalline, icy, cold, motionless, silent.
“Winter has come”, she whispers, then vanishes into the shadows.