say-so

one day,

fantasy will give in,

and reality will win,

that day,

veiling you in haze, 

pixie dust will settle,

I won't be the same,

grasping the nettle.

but, till then,

or, at least, for now,

let me believe

in the kind of love

I have never found.

iced lake

it’s weary winter time,

and resting underneath

the lake, drowsily frozen

asleep, still, perhaps dead,

runs furtive water

endlessly dark,

comfortably warm

unbelievably kind, 

seemingly sublime!

but what would you know,

beholding from a distance,

touching just the surface?