Darkens the house
Blurs the panes
And the world without;
Shrinks my world
To one small room
Where a bubbling fire
Relieves the gloom.
The storm is a mirror—
A darkened glass,
Haunted with images
From the past;
The foggy shapes
Outside the walls
Speak with your voice
And gently call.
I refuse this grief
Push sorrow away
But in the darkened mirror
You appear plain as day.