# Cold beauty

Дарина Юрьевна Татаринова

She stood, a willow, pale and finely made,

Her dark hair flowed like silk against the light

Blue veins, a river 'neath her skin displayed,

And slender fingers, long and ever white

Her soul was winter, though her eyes saw art

In common things, where others saw but grey

She scorned a lie, a cold and frozen heart,

That only love could ever melt away