Ice Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

One made to heat.
And not to do overnight.
May never recover,
From the wicked deeds of others.
The ones given the wrong advice,
As to how to treat one sincere.
Someone who is clearly,
Nice and naturally.

One made to heat.
With a doing done slowly.
May one day awaken unable to stay,
Away from a temperature made...
To boil over.
And a warmth once known,
To others shown yet disrespected.
Has turned shoulders cold. Like ice.

One made to heat.
No longer keeping this feeling discreet.
Now has eyes prepared to slice.
With a doing of it effectively.
Even the use of a knife to pick,
A heart frozen to freeze...
Hoping to thaw and warm again,
Is discovered too late to undo the process.