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You are literary connoiseur #
The lid was leaden sable-
The sky was dark and foreboding. In fact, everything was dark and foreboding. And cold-- we were shut up tight to conserve as much heat as possible. So there we sat, all huddled in one room around a table, wrapped in blankets, talking, trying to pretend that everything was all right.
The bottom frosty snow-
Looking outside, it was so bleak, the little bit that you could see. Tiny shafts of light came out of the windows in the room, spilling onto small patches of the snow, which covered the ground to an unknown depth, keeping us locked in. And keeping him locked out; hopefully, when he finally got here, he would be able to dig his way in. Or maybe I should say if he gets here.
It sat upon a table-
So there we sat in our chairs about the table, in a circle, a veritable color wheel of blankets, no one feeling as bright and cheery as our covers suggested. We talked in hushed tones, respectful of the feeling of the place, but quiet for no good reason, really, other than that it just seemed to fit the dreadfully morbid environment we were in. We talked about what had happened, about why we were all here, and why he wasn't here yet, when he played such a vital part in it all. Every now and then, a quiet argument would break out, but what did you expect, we had been sitting there waiting in dire suspense for too long, everyone's nerves were frayed. The tension had to be broken somehow. We considered what we'd do when he finally arrived, and what we'd do about the whole situation in general. Needless to say, no one was having a good time.
Of grass no longer mown-
Way back whenever, this place used to be magnificent. Now it was old, decrepit, and dead. The high, vaulted ceilings and the towering walls were chipped and cracking. The stone floors were rife with small, meandering fissures. The gardens that once had brought such a feeling of life to the grounds were now adding to the air of death. The rest of the grounds of the place, and the outsides of the buildings, were overgrown and delapidated. And it was all deadly silent out there, not even the wind had the gall to howl at the unseen moon. Sounds like the perfect place for a late-night, clandestine rendezvous, doesn't it? We thought so.
The world held us in check-
I don't remember exactly when we decided that it was time we did something besides just sitting there and bickering. I guess it was that waiting those endless hours got to us all. We had to put up with the ever-present thought that we were trapped inside, that it was deadly dangerous inside, and that we were helpless to even solve our primary problem until he came. So we argued about whether to wait it out a while longer, or to go and try to do something. In the end, action won out.
A bottle with no escape-
We each took a light and started looking, agreeing to stay within hearing range of each other and to meet back in that room shortly. Thus, we set out, calling to one another to keep tabs on everyone, seeking some method of exit. The doors were pretty much ruled out; we were certain, from looking out the windows, that the snow was deep enough to keep doors that opened out shut, and to make opening doors that swung in a serious gamble-- no one was eager to have the snow prop open the door, letting out our precious heat and letting in the frosty whiteness out there. Hence, we checked windows, and looked for other, less conventional methods of leaving a dwelling. As long as we had hesitated, we needed to be quick about getting out and finding him; what if our absence was discovered? Then all our secrecy would be for naught.
The unknown was its neck-
When our allotted time for searching was gone, we met back in the room and discussed what we had found. No one had found anything that was obviously the right way to go, so we were back to disputing which was the best path. Reasoning behind each choice was presented, thoughts were discussed. We even visited each proposed exit and weighed its pros and cons while considering it versus the others. If ever there was a time we could have used divine intervention, it was then. What if the wrong portal was chosen? What if something happened? We stood in the face of uncertainty, and visibly flinched.
And we were poised upon its nape-
Finally, we chose to exit one of the tall, wide windows in the room next to the one that had become our headquarters of sorts. If something happened, at least our little base was mostly safe, but we weren't so far away that the heat and relative safety would seem unattainable. We gathered together enough blankets and jackets to stay warm for a while out there, and enough lights to find our way. Everyone crowded around the window as it was forced open. It opened without difficulty, no disasters ensued as we each slipped out into the waist deep snow, wary of the areas where the drifts were chest-high or more. At least the Fates were smiling upon us at one point in the whole mess.
The lid was leaden sable-
Across the barrenness we trekked, our feet failing, ourselves falling, and our bodies freezing, but getting back up again, determined to see this through to the end. We briefly discussed where to head, but it was evident to all that he would have had to come by road; the only fools out basically unprotected in this weather were ourselves, and even we had each come to the old house by our vehicles, even though they were useless now, buried beneath the white plague that infected everything around us. Infected everything, that is, except for the sky above us, which was the same impenetrable black it had been throughout all of this.
The bottom frosty snow-
Ultimately, we came to the edge of the steep hill that was the border of the immense estate, separating it from the rest of the world, making it seem a kingdom in the lofty clouds. Below us, after thirty feet of the blankness, a small plain stretched out; the road was on this plain. Trying to walk down the side of the bluff was stupidity; we decided that we might as well wrap ourselves in our coverings, and roll. So we did. At the bottom, we regrouped and headed away from the mansion, following the road as well as we could in the waist-deep snow. It was insanely cold, everyone was insanely tired, and more of this same insanity extended in front of us. But who am I to label the world as insane when I was the one willfully subjecting myself to it all.
And though I may not be able-
We stumbled along, good traveling coming in spits and stutters because it was interrupted just as it really got going by bad traveling, a.k.a. deep drifts and hidden obstacles. No one was doing very well, but I fear that I was doing the worst of all, probably because of my greater stake in how things turned out. If the worst were to happen, the others would at most be seriously disappointed and badly inconvenienced. I myself would-- well, I don't even want to consider it. Let's just say I wouldn't be so well off. Therefore, I pondered what I would do if the worst happened, and didn't pay as much attention as I should have to what was going on around me in the real world. That's probably why I didn't notice how the snow dipped sharply in front of me, and why I slipped down that very short incline to the rocky ditch underneath the powdery stuff and injured my ankle. As you might guess, I ended up having to be supported between two of my six compatriots as we pressed on. Fortunately, we didn't have to go far. In digging through the little bit of snow that they did to get to my wounded self, they uncovered some of the torn up ground from where his car slid through the gravel and slush. After uncovering a bit more of the ground, we found his car quite easily.
The why I long to know.
Apparently he had been in a hurry to not be so late; he had rounded a corner during the blizzard and lost control. The car had slammed head-on into one of the large rocks left across the land here by the glaciers so long ago, killing the car, but leaving him unconscious. If the car hadn't died, if it had kept running, and if the heat had stayed on, he would still be breathing, and we might have solved our problems. But his vehicle quit, as they tend to do, and since the accident had knocked him unconscious, he wasn't awake to do something to preserve his heat. Lying in his seat, with help just over that hill, he froze to death. I dropped to the ground beside the open door, ripping off my gloves to feel his skin, to see if what my eyes told me, and what they all said, was true. He was like icy wax, and touching his once very alive and expressive face sapped the heat from my hands and the strength and life from my being. The tears streamed down my face, freezing slowly to my cheeks and chin. They pulled me away, stuffed my gloves back over my fingers, slammed his door shut, and dragged me away, back toward the house. They discussed how the whole issue was pretty much moot now, but how it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out with him. I screamed for them to leave me alone and let me go back, and they kept their iron grip on my arms, and my one and only love still lies locked away in his car beneath the ever falling snow as they pontificate over what to do now.
The lid was leaden sable
The bottom frosty snow
It sat upon a table
Of grass no longer mown
The world held us in check
A bottle with no escape
The unknown was its neck
And we were poised upon its nape
The lid was leaden sable
The bottom frosty snow
And though I may not be able
The why I long to know