The Tear By Darkkin It came down, swirling round Whispering in her ears. Words of wisdom No cynic ever hears. With a cloak and icy breath He came snow, hiding the tears. She with hair unbound, The breath of springtime in her tender years. Old Man howled, a frigid tantrum cast When that whisper he did hear. For it was she, this breath of spring She, this child, he did fear. Hair of flame, a sweet song of longing Eyes fixed upon the veil, cold and sheer. Snow and ice, the whole world round. A gentle touch, a snowflake's tear. Softly, deftly...A sylvan touch. Her herald the Zephyr's wings, she does hear. By drip and torrent the snows fell away. Leaving a brook, brimming and clear. Old Man Winter, a broken hold... He nods, surrendering for the year. That whisper that gave her hope. The murmur of wisdom in her ear. From the cold lips of a boy... Who had seen her single, speaking tear. Jack, the artist of the Frost... A gift, for the Aster he holds so dear.