By coYotE howLL
Date: 25 February 1998

Weave

A fine misery this is
Laying within a root's length of you
Having touched you before
but never with the spirit I know now
Having spoken to you
but never with the gentle whisper like
the worm's crawl
Having listened to you
but never with the silent mind of the grave
Having kissed in spring, summer, and fall
but never the cold winter again.