Cold beauty from a wild touch, caresses left behind.
As Jack pressed upon the glass to see what was inside.
Too much warmth for his cold heart as he danced away from heat.
I did not hear him when he came and did not hear him flee.
I only saw the waves of cold he left, a swirling masterpiece.
Detailed with a master’s hand and done so wondrously.
Then morning sun shines on the glass, fading it away.
Melting the work of this wild sprite and his magic touch of fey.