Stale,
Two lovers' hands do meet,
Though falter once they're there.
Chill was the air,
Though kind was their love,
Warming them down to their cores;
Their bones and twigs and stardust elements.
Soft,
Their love wilted in the nip,
Froze in the freezing gloom,
Though it was sweet as wintry rose.
Sound was their love-make,
Though two hands tried to mess,
Gripping til white went flesh.
Silky,
Two lovers' hands had met,
Tears flowing free
Onto those dreamy digits
Which had faltered in the winter air.
Love was here, love was there,
But wilts like wintry rose.