She came as wind, cross frozen lake,
Roy Rawlinson January 2001.
To chill me, to my soul
Yet full and warm did take me high,
Where mortals never stroll
Such words had I not heard before,
With gentle, tender tone
To spirit light of any man,
Yet freeze him to the bone
A dream in time, of perfect phrase,
How burn the mind with fire
To hear at last angelic voice
Brim full with pure desire
Then all too soon, be gone away,
To places never seen.
Yet still remain the memory,
Or maybe, just a dream?