It’s what I’ll never tell you that means so much.
Mocking. Cut me down.
But it is only the tip of the iceberg you are seeing.
Don’t expect a bushel of sharing.
Not even a peck for a kiss.
You’d have to build castles in my clouds
before I would ever
bring my drawbridge down.
Open-armed children grow armour
once upon their dreams get ripped.
You’re a lifetime commitment to use and abuse
for days that have already passed on.
The iceberg drifts slowly.
Chip off some ice for your glass of vodka.
Icebergs drifts slowly.
Their mass is below the surface.
There is nothing here for you.
Unless you can build
An ice palace
In my clouds.
I’m just going to call the pic strange eye because that is what my daughter said first when she saw it. Ha ha. But it had me in mind of an iceberg visually if turned on the side and it had a forbidding, don’t come near, look.