• The streets are dim and
    the miles are many;
    in the snow, I cannot help but
    think of you.

    The streets look like they're on fire,
    all the snowflakes reflecting
    the orange of the sodium lamps.
    The wreath on my door glitters,
    shifting like the winter winds,
    the reflections pacing.
    Wanting to welcome you, we both wait.

    Hannibal's army crossed the Alps
    in weather worse than this;
    yet, the elephants trooped down
    with frost on their tusks,
    and I can only hope my heart cannot withstand the invasion
    nearly as well as Rome.

    It was winter when we met, and
    yet Christmas seemed so cliche;
    in the snow, though, I cannot help but
    think of us.