Styled after the poem by C.S. Lewis, "Legion" and I can't say I did nearly as well as he.
An Icicle: a Poem
Lord, hear my voice, my angry, trembling plea:
What have I done to deserve this dark demise?
(I find I'm mortal under saffron skies).
So now I cry to those heavens; in your mercy
Reject this heat, return me to my eternality.
Slowly death extends me, agony drips in all my sighs;
I waste, I wane. As long-lost summer is on the rise
My shrine is shattered. You will destroy me.
Like Persephone, Lord Master, return me to my throne,
And once a season deign to grant my desire,
Have as many seasons as you wish, but give me one!
Don't kill me forever. Give me yet my wintry zone
(Else I shall be lost forever in summer's fire)…
Your blossoming spring is too much: I am undone.