She howls like a hurt child
Twisting and writhing, relentless and wild.
Holding her poor broken heart to her breast she flies,
Jewels on her robe, silver streaks in her hair.
Holding her poor broken heart to her breast she flies,
Jewels on her robe, silver streaks in her hair.
Her tears splash on my window panes,
Her urgent knocks weaken its hinges.
I open the window, let her in,
Her pain pricks me with thousand ice cold needles.
