How like a witch I would cast my spell
And fill you with a love that lasts
Like mine does.
It forges its way through empty days
Without fuel in the long lonely nights
The drabness of the winter drub
The cold air is bitter and the snow falls
Down like ashes, a confetti of mourning
And all the while my breath blesses the air
With a tender steam, and my skin
Is flushed red under my thick coat
Aching with the need for you.
But you’ll never trace your fingers
There, nor know what beats beneath.
The air will never part with the relief
Of an ecstasy fulfilled, for our ecstasy
It never begun, you will never hold me
As I long to be held, my bed is empty
Like a phantom I try to hold you
But you slip through, ever inadequate
Even in my waking dreams.


Rose Staveley-Wadham