Cinerous Drops of November Rain.

Creamy, so creamy...
The strawberry ice melting away, beckoning to stay.
Dreamy, so dreamy...
Lies the slip of my consciousness,
For I am frozen, made to savor this, and such rude compliments.
Being made to watch makeshift fantasies,
With their slicing blades, they weave the bows of May.
Wouldn't it be nice?
To forever envision, those sparkling ribbons?
Lift me, and this can be...
But don't let me fall, from this fantasian allure...
For the fear that everything crushes.
What will be left? All but the ashes?
Lost forever, drifting through the passageways of the moor.
All ways edging toward the promises.
Crawling, creeping towards the indulgence,
Surreal entanglement, for my fate, my wedding day.