Icy fingers surf the emissions and warmth
In search of that innermost part of your soul...
Reaching, moving ever closer,
Aching to slide down your throat as easily as
Lemonade on a hot summer's day.
Icy fingers wiggle and squirm as
They begin their descent into your body,
Touching you in places - secret places -
Places you've never been touched before...
Hoping to take root in your heart.
Icy fingers dig in with sharp, biting nails...
Grabbing and tearing at your soul,
Leaving you breathless and frozen to the core
And dreading the moment you must battle
Jack Frost again.
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