Winter was probably the coldest of them all.
She’d come around, though, every year, for some reason
She bore a frosted heart, wherever in the world,
And left a wake of snow, longing after her, unfurled.
Winter, she laughed a lot, whether aware or not of this,
They could not say. She was light acumen,
A picture-perfect beauty, bliss.
And she ran in whirls of snow and love, was soft
And came down hard from winter gods aloft
She was forbidding, in love, she dispensed barely any
She only took much in from others. And of those others
There were many.
Sun, he took it far the worse, as far as he could tell
Winter put Sun’s heart, for good, in a place, a longing hell.
“Why do you leave me every spring?” asked Sun one day to Winter
“It’s broke my heart in so many pieces, it now can only splinter.”
This made Winter laugh and so she blew
Snow into his face, and the icy gesture bit.
“I do not know,” she shrugged. “My heart is restless, wrapped by ice, and
And you will never melt it.”
Sun he turned to blue
Had no clue
How the sadness, nor the love, she could not see
He didn’t want to be Sun anymore; he didn’t want to be.
He turned dull, and gray, until the sky was clouded.
And in a pall of dimness, overcast, the world was then enshrouded.
But Sun came back, after quite a time, as Winter was leaving for spring.
She probably found some other lover,
And to them, sadness she’d well bring.
As Sun sank down across the trees
Reaching his light through the parted leaves
And space and time,
Thinking of the Winter’s rhyme,
or reason, or anything.
Then Moon manifested as a ghost against the dying day sky
And said the question the Sun had asked, simply put,
“Why what?” said Sun, only barely able to make a glow,
As sun waves and particles, diamond lances, chased away the snow…
As a last, last chance to make Winter understand,
To make her somehow know…
“Why does she not understand?” said Moon
“How much you love her?”
As she solidified herself, as Sun sank down and black.
“For if Winter knew, we know it’s true,
She’d come blowing back.”
“I know,” said Sun, and out he went, his love reverted, it all
Nothing more than stoic sadness, pent up inside that ball.
And so he did not hear the last of what Moon did say
She would die away later, sure he’d not love her
And fade away with the day.
Moon stayed out though awhile and watched, sadness there as well
As her thoughts stayed on the Sun, for her love for him would dwell,
For anon and evermore.
Doing all she could possible, to make the Sun know too.
As Sun wished for Winter to do.
“For that love that you hold for Winter,” whispered Moon to Sun.
“Is what I hold