On these never-summer nights, when the air of my life
Forms clouds that hover about me,
I raise my arms to distant chips of bitter ice knowing only
That somewhere, under this uncordial mantle, you are;
Even though those dark, sweet hours when it was
Your hand that I held by this very frosted moon are forever lost.
My soul is one with this winter night.
This ice that kisses me when the wind blows is enough,
It burns my shadowed face like your kisses never will again.
But still, my tears should not freeze to my face-
Each day I spend without you is cold enough without the mockery of
winter.
So I lay me down, under a diamond blanket, to rest at last
Wondering now and ever more, by what storm came
you here.
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