An icy gale broke down the door
And swept around, bearing down
Upon the vase; shattering it on the floor
No one nearby, no where near a town
The ear piercing, deafening shrill
Heard by no one, no one at all
But Oh what fear, Oh what thrill
Till at last the vase lay in the hall
Cracked, broken and weeping
No one to hear, no one to listen
A new found fear of sleeping
For never again that flower would glisten.
Her soul had been stolen by an icy breeze
Her heart forever forced to freeze
