Short winds do tarry amongst the hill crests
While day length tarries not, for rotation
Of the rock we live on gives us it's best
Wishes while frozen wastes begin to win
Over the sprawling plains and yonder hills.
So for a short while I do tarry for
You amongst spikes of cold and bitter hand shakes,
Amongst glances of steel that on me wore
A hole deep into the fathomless lakes
That are my heart and soul. Don't tarry still,
For my grey hairs lengthen with the daylight,
And thorny metals do press my back,
Wanting so much from me that by the night
I shall fade from your arms, fade into black.
Tarry Me Hither, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012
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