He lies silent
In the
False blue
Dawn
Of November
Eyes closed,
Unbreathing,
Frost in his
Hair-
A man-sized doll
Pale skinned,
White haired,
Hands loose,
Face soft as
A child's.

You reach
Out to him,
Hands trembling
Cold flesh
To
Cold flesh,
How did it
All come to this
The memory
Of an altar,
The stink of
Blood,
Floating
Freefall
Through time.

Frost
Sparkles-
He stirs,
Into his
Arms
You creep,
Miss Edith
In yours-
Taking cold
Comfort from
William
In the
False blue
Dawn
Of November.