Gliding through the frozen ice portrayed as time,

It is so easy to forget the memorable events

That paints the portrait of the world.

Yet, with one more careful glance

At the reflection that is so forced and shallow,

One cannot help but look at the surface,

So cracked and dented from emotional turmoil

That is so apparent in hindsight.

Though the clarity never deviate from its equilibrium,

The colors that is painted on the surface

Are always on the move.

Many times the whole palette is shown;

However, there are moments of monochrome,

Quite dissonant to the loud exterior that society is fomous for.

But that does not matter

As once again another scratch is made -

This time a careless judgement from the silver blades.

While the appearance of this ice can be changed

To look more appealing,

It does not take away the history

Of the alterations that were made.

If this wishful thinking could actually come true,

Oh how much peaceful would one's time be

As it ages gracefully under the rays of the waking sun.