Cold outside, the glass mists,
Drawing swirls and turns and twists.
Draw me closer, hold me tight,
Hold me until morning light.

Wake up hazy-eyed, asleep.
I watch you dream, I let you keep
the covers that you stole from me.
I stumble up and dress quietly.

Close the door, a cringing creak,
Trees outside in autumn chic.
Breathe in deep, breathe out a cloud,
Humming Martha Tilston aloud.

Meander round and under trees,
My mind skipping between falling leaves,
Pause a while beside the pool,
A mirror of glass, fluid and cool.

Birds’ songs split the crisp air,
The wind rustles leaves and plays with my hair.
Amble back, songs in my mind,
One glance back as the moon leaves the sun behind.