Icicles

By Doris d’Adolf Reichman

A lovely fringe of shiny bright

Was hung up on our roof last night,

All twinkly crystal hanging there

Like jeweled robes for queens to wear.

The sun sent colors peeking through—

Yellow, violet, green, and blue—

But when its cozy warmth was felt,

The icicles began to melt.

Then they began to sing a song,

“Drip-along, drop-along,”

Till soon there was no fringe or sound—

Just little puddles on the ground.