It had started last winter he didn't know what to do with himself now that he was seeing less and less of her
He remembered one night so intoxicating now a memory whispered like a secret 'you pull the silk through the ring', she had said 'to test the fineness of the cloth'
He remembered the last time he saw her when she pulled away from him and her mouth simply listened she was silent as a lamp post
And he, rootless then like a weed pulled from her garden suddenly felt himself weary as a coal heaver he knelt down on his marrow bones by her still water
And stayed with her until thick ribbons of ice formed and pleasant milk and water snowflakes softened the pale and sunless winter evening
He stayed until the black printers-ink sky told him how long she had been away then he went home sober as a statue and fell asleep with the all the lights on
