When Ink Unfreezes Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

The frozen nib, a winter's still embrace,
No flowing thought, no vibrant inked trace.
A brittle point where words lay locked and deep,
A silent promise, secrets it would keep.

But warmth arrives, a gentle unseen hand,
The sun's soft touch across the frosted land.
A patient wait, the air begins to sigh,
And tiny crystals, silently, they die.

Then, slow at first, a dark and liquid gleam,
The ink awakens like a waking dream.
A subtle shift, a whispered fluid grace,
The frozen heart finds its relinquished space.

A velvet bloom upon the waiting page,
Where stories sleep and passions disengage.
The pen now glides, a resurrected flight,
From icy slumber into vibrant light.

The words now flow, a river dark and deep,
Where frozen feelings, secrets used to sleep.
Unbound at last, the ink, a freed cascade,
A thawing moment beautifully made.