This one after Hans Christian Andersen
Kay's eye was sore; yet what he saw was real.
He had no special gift for mundane life.
The Ice queen's kisses cut him like a knife.
He climbed aboard her sledge. She does not steal
but knows her own. And leaves them on their own
to solve her icy puzzles. Find a way
to write eternity. Perhaps they pay
for wisdom with their death. All that is known
has costs. And Gerda's journey had its price,
ignored what flowers could tell her, cast aside
the robber girl and princess. Who both tried
but love no more than puzzles gives advice.
Gerda and Kay were happy. There deaths came
from boredom, every mundane day the same.