when I was saved from
       the thicket picketed with thorns
               and soon the sun receded behind
                      the triple peaks of then, now, and yet to be
                               you howled into the glowing period
                                     vast, sparkling and combing the lands
                                            could I have grabbed your hand,
                                                 where the warmth stays and hearts flutter
                                                        and feet walk in sync past, now, and yet