I slept under your roof that winter night,

the bed gentle, and your body sleeping

well, while frost glazed the window pane; keeping

warm in my arms, pale in the moon’s light.

And I slept, and dreamt that our two lives might

have this stillness, that there might be no weeping;

that our two hearts might keep doubt from creeping.

That love might last, and kindness, and delight.

As we slept the sky began to fall.

The light that reached us in the dawn was blue,

filtered through snow that reached the eaves, and all

the outside world had gone, and a silence too

deep to enter held us breathless; I recall

those days of falling, and dreams that came untrue.