The wintry cold castle of ice
whose entrance her shoulder marked
was etched wide and thin
with flaws; malformations, maculations.
It was here that four, no five fingers
entered without a warm welcome
to find freedom; a wonderland for figure skaters -
their entrance fee commissioned in love.
Slow, they caressed what could be cut by blades
below, earthquakes of shivers rampant in waters
not quite frozen, yet, like the rest.
In a way, the nipping cold gripped the minds
and hearts of these fingers, forever congealing them
within this castle of ice, floating upon currents
where love ran evermore.