ICE CUBES

Berthold Lippel

I stare at the ice cubes in the bowl

they look cold and slippery.

my mind drifts

the Eskimos give their old folks a candy bar

and send them out on an ice cube to die.

I wish I could do that to her

she who froze my heart

and taught me to hate.

I see tiny bubbles of air in the cubes

polite words trapped in trivial conversations.

the ice cubes are melting

measuring time by their slow death.

I touch them with my finger

it burns--paradox--then it turns numb.

I wish she would kiss my finger

make it warm again

to the temperature of love.

I want her back

but it is too late.

there is only a puddle

and a memory.

  • Author: Berthold Lippel (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 9th, 2016 02:29
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 29
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Comments +

Comments1

  • lysistrata

    Dearest,

    Physics isn't the most important thing. Love is.
    Don't talk to me about puddles or E.or the combination of these 2 together!!😯😕
    I loved your structure...I am learning...
    Off tomorrow to watch one of my favourite operas:"AIDA" by G.Verdi.
    Take care in the meantime....💜




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