Lord of Winter

You’ve been draining my orbs of lymph
this night around, reducing my body
to an empty hive, dry and lifeless.

Even more you made me neglect my duties
as lord of winter, and I’m not allowed
to disregard my early assignment.
Still I can feel the call of chill,
neat and incessant outside our burrow.

So let me rise and see the morning’s face …
yes, it’s quite tough, sharp-cheeked and harsh,
and it’s too late to brave it lightheartedly,
my blind boldness would not suffice.

I will make it all the same, to make it mine,
this shadow, I don’t need my precious liquid.
All the defeats I suffered tag along behind me,
they don’t bother me in the least, I drink a toast.
There always are more shiny white ahead in time,
more fierce nightly struggles, no predictable winner.

As long as your glow resides in my eyes,
however dark it is, to be lord again
I just need skin as hard as bark,
a few fluttering snowflakes,
some cheer, some blues,
vastitudes to cover.
Lips of ice,
and a tongueful of forgetfulness.