When the winter sends the snows between our doors
The music pours incense through corridors
The white horizon starts to roar
The Spanish chord of a distant train
The engine of an afternoon
approaching, bearing thoughts of yours,
Under quilts and pelts and freezing rain.
And if your windows reflect on mine
Our ricochet glimpses glint and shine
To numb the pains of temporary time.
Every crystal bud presages
A sanctuary hint of August's massage
As thawed and fresh unfrozen we meet
In adoration unadorned.
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