By Damien Knight
The ice grows in my veins,
cold, encroaching on my heart.
The fire, where is the flame?
I searched every part
of this forbidding land.
Am I cursed to a lonely grave?
No! There in her hand
the fire I so crave.
These frozen winter plumes
could thaw at last;
this desolate raven grooms
away his checkered past.
I will reach for the fire
and warm my soul
embrace her desire
and find us as a whole.
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