by Nick Gisburne
Degrees beneath the freezing point of pain
She staggers, as a prisoner, in glass
Her feet, her fingers, tainted with a stain
Of blue, a grave malaise which will not pass
The walls are frosty, frigid to the touch
Desiring only freedom, she believes
A pressure point, a tap, too hard, too much
Will shatter the enchantment she perceives
She feels her wings may never warm again
Unless she breaks the magic of the trap
Her captor is the cleverest of men
Whose bones she will unmercifully snap
The frozen fairy, tricked and bottled, sings
To break the glass, her prison, as it rings
