In the Cold of Winter

In the cold of winter, all alone,
Without you lying next to me
To grant me thermal amnesty,
How will I wake from dormancy?

A plethora of woolly wraps
Can't duplicate the warmth you yield
By pressing close, raw skins annealed
To form a womblike intimacy.

Leaves of grief that drop in November
Follow willow's chains of tears
And, wind-whisked, blow against the spears
Of drying canes and dying stalks.

Forsake me not, my naked kit!
Abandonment is crookt and cruel,
And pity one who's more the fool
For ever questioning desire.