if I could know you're feeling right
the fire's ash is drifting white
I'd sleep so still and wide and light
on this cold starless night
goodbye, although we're feeling bled
the fur and ash are newly wed
keep your quill, don't hide in red
in that old, star lit head
the snow outside has softly set
the frosted glass. A rusty fret
is cheep goodwill so wild and wet
take a bold Pascalian bet
