Hammersmith Winter by Robin Robertson

Hammersmith Winter

It is so cold tonight; too cold for snow,

and yet it snows. Through the drawn curtain

shines the snowlight I remember as a boy,

sitting up at the window watching it fall.

But you’re not here, now, to lead me back

to bed. None of you are. Look at the snow,

I said, to whoever might be near, I’m cold,

would you hold me. Hold me. Let me go.