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Hands Of Ice
I see Old Age, his hand so frail and cold
My mind goes numb with fear and memories
Death reaches out but I am not that bold
I fill with snow, lose all I love, and freeze
The wonder of life and beauty of my dreams
The wide open eyes so often filled with tears
Trapped under ice and, yet, somehow it seems
Death holds my soul and Old Age holds my years
I recognize my scars upon their hands
And realize I'm being such a fool
I do not have to live by their demands
I've means to change and Death is but a tool
But so's the sun and so are memories
Something inside me warms a few degrees
