To D ....

Spasms of wind whip the rain down the valleys
Drive the ice-spars unerringly through my body;
Above, on the left, houses jag the skyline
And beyond, I imagine, there's another skyline
And not unwelcome.

She is tired, and I am tired
Together we could be tired,
Conjunctionally.

But my inner warmth is diffused
And a prey to the incidental attack Of the wind,
Whose sound would seem, heightened accompaniment
To the warmth of dual fusion;
But now chill arrows pierce my heart
And we are two skylines apart.