Even us California girls need to go where it's cold once in a while
And watch the way ice freezes its way across a lake.
I used to stare at the saints and wish I could be encased in perfect glass like them,
Heart untorn, unmoving, unborn.
You won't catch me grieving for that golden grove unleaving,
Ice around the edges, a good place to start.
But in the middle I could fall down,
Silent as I sink to the bottom
Where I buried my heart.