I am still awakening, like a child,
(Or an elder), to this fresh, new dawned hall.
Chilled silvered mists do fondle the mild
Horizon's visage, sound stays close, and all
About me is but held within a breath.
All my warmth is in me, my skin is tight
Against this cold. My mind is still in death,
I fight these dreams to stay, to ignore light.
But though the dawn does warn the day, my heart
Remembers brighter things. Last night, burning
Candle-short, burnt as forges play their part,
Sparkling white the heat did light that evening.
I now await the bitter cold of day
While memories of warmer nights still play.