For Eager Lovers (Taggard collection)/Frost in the Air
FROST IN THE AIR
Winter put his shoulder To our door, Nights are turning colder More and more; We are old—or older Than before.
Poppied sleep and honeyed breathAre an antidote for death.
If your fingers tingle Hold them here: Doom has drawn a single Circle clear; Lean to me and mingle Fear with fear. . . .
Poppied sleep and honeyed breathAre an antidote for death.