Like soldiers in a row
They stand or rather, hang,
Trying to cling to life,
But they keep on slipping.
Their demise may be slow
Yet I know they must die
For their blood is dripping.
Drip by drip, drip by drip
Their short life slips away.
Some are lost in the heat of day
As true soldiers are lost
In the heat of battle.
The nighttime comes and they
Regroup, regain some strength.
Not many die at night
- But with the morning light
They must again be wary
For they are nothing more
Than icicles of February.
Kim Barney
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rooftop-stronghold/
