Winter Whispers

You Haven't Stirred

``All human unhappiness comes from not knowing how to stay quietly in a room.'' - Blaise Pascal

You sit alone a long time in the dusk

until at last the embers start to smolder.

You haven't stirred. The fire hasn't died.

Only the hour now is growing older.

Sweetened, you watch the ashes turn to love....

A woolen shawl brushes against your arm:

Wordlessly she settles at your side.

Solitude waits to be shared in a winter room.