January Mercury Pools

She counts the stars, one by one
Leaving ripples in her reflection
shadows cast by light of the moon
A distorted picture of perfection

She sits, tearing the petals
from store bought wilted daisies
mumbled whispers tumble from her tongue
An old mantra of the love-sick crazy

North wind blows forth
from Boreas’ frosty lips
tangling her unruly tress
nipping at the flesh of her fingertips

She misses the subtle warmth
of a kisses left behind
The soft caress of Love’s warm touch
that filled her with such bliss

Yearning to, again, be lost
in the silver tides of his eyes
enticed by the tender embrace of Death
drowned in pools of mercury and ice

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