50 Word Stories: These Jewellery Box Nights

Two and the moon, we lay beneath a star-sprinkled sky. The hill frosted before our eyes each grass blade a sugar-frosted sabre, each leaf a glistening butterfly, each breath a sparkling ghost. Two diamonds lost to love, we glittered, the night closing around us like a jewellery box.

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**FROST**

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Crystalline you bring the white

 

That sparkles through the dark of night

 

The cold of breath, the misting air

 

A touch of winter everywhere

 

And who, you say, is such a man

 

To launch this diamond carpet plan

 

To chatter teeth, his aim and boast

 

He is Jack Frost, the morning ghost

Adore



 Carpeted frost does glisten to me
 
 Lain across dawn, grasses, and tree
 
 A trillion jewels that will melt with the light
 
 What an awakening from another long night
 
 How is that everything can look so complete
 
 Wrapped up in cobwebs and diamonds, so neat
 
 I’ll linger a little, then run a bit more
 
 This world full of frost is just one I adore
 

 (Image courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)

Almost Glacial


 A North wind’s blowing

 Frost prickles the ground

 Herds wrapped in sheepskins

 Just wander around

 The crows all have sore throats

 As trees creak with ice

 The world standing frozen

 Especially the mice

 A new January morning

 Where white stands apart

 It’s glacial all over

 Except in our hearts

 
 
 
 

How Cold!

The brittle fingers of a first frost
 
 Have crept over my flesh.
 
 It is a fleeting taste of what’s to come,
 
 An early morning whitewash
 
 Striving to glitter through urban fogs.
 
 The last leaves of an Autumn shed
 
 Crinkled and crisp beneath my feet
 
 An aural accompaniment to the seasonal image:
 
 How refreshing; how pretty; how cold!
 
 
 

So Very Cold



 A frost on the meadow
 It’s early this year;
 Cystal awakening
 Of purest white.
 Breath steams about me
 Soul trying to flee,
 But temperature forbids
 And returns it to my warm core
 With tail tucked between legs.
 So brittle a morning
 No dew to take hold;
 No birds on the fields;
 No pale sun to feign warmth.
 Yet, a thing of dreams is this
 A result of winter’s kiss.
 I pause in my walking
 To sample the scene
 Bask in tranquility,
 Gaze at preserved landscape,
 Then, beat my hands together
 And move on.
 After all, it is so very cold.
 
 

Frost and Thought



 Crystal calculations,
 Innumerable in quantity,
 You sheaf our world
 In sparkling delight.
 Painted over landscape,
 Scattered across morn,
 A porcelain awakening,
 Oft departed
 Before insurmountable beauty
 Is even known.
 To see an early frost
 Just born,
 Sprinkled over existence,
 Is to know creation
 At its best.
 Then, warmth,
 And so soon later
 It has all gone,
 And all we are left with
 Is a morning dew
 And glacial memories.
 
 

 
 (Image courtesy Alliec on deviantart.com)