The Ice House
So cold, yet a perfect picture of the house in snow
The Ice House
The ice house stands, low and still,
frosted walls against the chill.
No flame inside, no warmth, no glow,
only cold from long ago.
Hands once packed the snow with care,
sealing summer’s warmth in there.
Layered thick, the ice held tight,
hidden safe from heat and light.
Now the roof sags, boards turn gray,
frost and time both slip away.
Yet through winters, deep and white,
it holds the cold, it keeps the night.
Snow drifts high against the door,
footsteps fade and come no more.
Still it waits, through thaw and storm,
empty, silent, stiff with form.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
I love poems and stories that bring inanimate places like the ice house to life. We often associate buildings and places with people we have known and loved. But your poem about the icehouse acknowledges the care of those who no longer visit the home and in so doing reminds of its former utility and resistance to the elements that are now wearing it down. Your poem is both beautiful and sad as a result! Loved it!
Love the picture and it seems you are slowing getting over your phobia for you have written quite a lot of snow related poems that are very well-written. This cabin is sad to me.