The wind erupts -
you've frozen up
and curse the Cold North
with outstretched arms to the sky.

Oh, how I straightened my tie
and left the warmth of the South
to find your eyes, full of doubt,
staring into themselves through reflections.

"Let go," I say.  "Come inside."

Through all folly
and all anger,
you're frightened here.

You yell:
"How can I start again?
It's all a dream to me now.
Inside is cold, too.
I cannot let go."

Goodbye is inadequate,
but how can we say enough?

So you depart,
I watch you set off.
You sail on rivers,
you float on seas.

I'll be the light in the fog
if you decide to row home.