A Crystal Morning
By Max Elsworth / Spinebreakers Crew
When the hushed voices of children fade into whispers,
The night’s vistas unfurl and they blanket with dreams:
Dreams of frigid lakes, beaming under the winter’s moon
That shines down, with a seemingly bitter, winter fury. Watching the crystal art,
It breathes a last sigh before it departs.
Awaking stiffly, the parents yield to the chimes of bells
That clang amidst the joyous yells across the street.
Wiping frost from their weary eyes,
They arise with festivity at heart.
A dulcet of laughter is ringing in the air,
Relinquishing for one day any solemnity and despair.