Standing on the Dock

Look into the pools of blue, They once were so vibrant. Frost stills and glazes the water. Yet the streams flow down, Through the reeds and plains. Cliffs await and the drops fall. A hand longs to halt the flow, To bring back the warmth that was. Seeing the basins return vividly, With dry streams and bright days. The heat to banish chilly frost. And recover the shimmer lost. This hand longs to intervene, To be with blissful eyes again.