Icicle

Watching icicles fall from the sky

Waiting for their end

Waiting to die

We are like icicles

Clung to a ledge

As we grow older

And move towards the edge

They are beauty

A twinkle of a sight

As I stand here and watch

On this warm winter night

They are like children

Growing up too fast

In a blink of an eye

Their time has past

Watching icicles fall from the sky

I am an icicle

Waiting to die

(c) Guy Tetro 2003