The world beyond this misty pane,

Is rendered exotic only,

By the limitations of the frame,

Suggesting things unseen.


The wind, its bitter chill being unfelt

Indoors, promises to set free

Trapped shadows of loneliness and regret,

Forced to dance in here by flickering lamplight.


Meanwhile, from outside,

The room I long to escape

Is made intriguing by the  soft glow

Of lamplight suggesting warmth and comfort,


(The shadows’ tortured ritual unseen from outside)

That may soothe the stings

Of loneliness and regret, brought on seemingly,

By the howling wind’s icy fingers.


Where, then, is comfort to be found?

Only your loving arms, my dear,

Can tame the tempest and dull,

The shadows of this too cruel winter.


Only your embrace,

Can bring spring, the sun

And blooming,

To me again.



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