Blurs the panes
And street without;
Shrinks my world
To one small room,
Where a bubbling fire
Relieves the gloom.
The storm is a mirror—
A darkened glass,
Haunted with images
From the past;
Foggy shapes
Outside the walls
Speak with your voice
And gently call.
I refuse this grief
Push sorrow away
But in the hall mirror
You appear...
Plain as day.
