Icy feelings, anger’s chill, a heart turned to frost,
Old maidens tossing on wide beds, feeling lost.
Perhaps they can't sleep through the long, lonely night,
As the cold winds of longing drift through their sight.
Once, in her youth, that old maid had her grace,
Caught in the joys of those days, in a blissful embrace.
She’d scoff at the...
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