With winter\'s heart when one is left to grieve;
Till death, pledged, do we part, so parted we;
Left me to skimming stones in make-believe,
In watching ripples forming into thee.
But ripples too will fade and so forsake
For nothing lasts of love, alas, but loss,
In part alive, in part demised, opaque.
This rippled blur, when parting, we must cross.
I\'d throw a stone but know there\'s not a hope,
For how to make a ripple in the ice,
To skim a hope would skim a hollow note
And love would freeze to death in winter\'s vice.
How could a make-believe, belief atone
Where waters freeze and ripples skim to stone.