An icicle is like a human’s emotions and appearance. So beautiful and cold and sharp and glistening in the sun, but it doesn’t last. Once the temperature rises just a little, the icicle wills begin to drip… then the drops become more frequent. It will start to lose its point and become dull. The once long icicle will become shorter. All its features will wear away until the last drop of it hits the ground and it is suddenly just a puddle of water soon to be evaporated and start its cycle all over again. It won’t be cold any longer as it rests on the hot blacktop or put into a coffee pot or rains in Florida. Its glisten will be gone because it is now a liquid, and a single drop will not shine; only many drops together will, but the icicle has been torn apart. Pieces in Europe, others all over America. The beauty all those drops had together is now fiction, never to be seen again or recreated, even questioned if it was ever seen at all.