Winter Reconciliation
Shoot the silver, frigid breeze
goose bump words, spoke softly, freeze
upon the lips of stately passion
upon the tragic shadows
Pass the sparking, ember torch
before blown hearts ignite and scorch
to still the night, to warm the soul
to bend the air to mending
Limp upon two aching feet
with just the chance that we should meet
my hand upon my broken heart
my sky shot down and empty
Still the waning, silver night
with your internal, glowing light
which brightens up my welling eyes
which floods my veins with hope.
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