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And in
that storm of angry loves,
She left the house without her gloves,
And at the point when she ran out,
Forgot what they had fought about.
In misery that seeks to gloat,
She hid her hands within her coat,
And clutched a heart as harsh as snow.
But it was 45 below,
And stumbling hard against the night,
With shaken step, and breath of white,
She stopped where crystal stars revealed
One field is like another field.
A wise man will beware strong drink
When mercury is due to sink
So low, it may corrupt the glass
And never rise again, alas!
And so, on winter's frozen hill
The lovely one had all her will
In triumph, for some little thing;
They found her body in the spring.
© 2008 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |
