Scared

. . .

Scared

Will it make you scared
If in raw manner I say to you,
Why it seems so weird;
This anguished passion's truth?

Crisp, cold frost, hangs in the air;
Warm breath seeps from you there.
That warmth enriches me where
Your sweet love holds my hand in care.

Scrunching snow shadows you,
Can you hear it as I do?
Soft footprints pace like a grand tattoo.
Cold nights to come; true love sees you.

My words taught long ago are few;
A simple verse I write for you.
On frosty days warmth draws near,
Your breath majestic; life is there.

I beg you do not fear.
None will ever scare you here.

. . .