Cold, cold heart
I cannot fathom thy depths;
Dead at the surface
Yet, I see signs—
A pair of blind fish
Wriggling beneath
The frosted mirror;
But how thick?
Wall, how thick now is
That hoary cobweb of thine?
If we assay to break thee,
Wilt thou suffer me?
Wilt thou bewray not
The warmth hid from me
Down deep?
How else could it be
That underneath the unmoving ice
Should those fish still live?
Evelyn Dumag-Gabinete
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