Frosted Irony

   

Frosted crystals
cling to the window,
so close to the warmth inside
still frigid cold outside.

Tiny sparkles
cling together,
holding hands
gaining strength.

They cover the window,
trying hard
to get inside, but
always so far away.

Strange irony that saddens;
the one thing they want the most,
to be inside; warm, cozy, and safe,
would bring the end of them.

For, in the warmth,
they would melt together
into oblivion and disappear
          forever.