The song of everlasting winter

(I wish I could turn this poem into architecture...)

With winter cold comes a whitening shiver
that holds desperately to the last ray of sun
the flowers that grow cheerful next to the river
linger in agony by the reckoning dawn

Alas! And all the water seems to flow
like a broken mirror in a dream
a shattered world, painful and slow
which conjures light so pale and dim

reflected in a thousand nipples
wombs of virgins, nymphs of despair
where my soul flies unaware

of the sorrow it jealously hopes
knowing not if one day
a shiver of winter may wash it away