and your face at the window,
child of memory,
as you count the snowflakes

and your face at the window,
child of the sun,
with your great eyes of gold

like the lantern which harbours
an unchanging flame
through the darkness of need

your reward to approach, now,
the sparkling tree
on your vision's white fields

and your back's to the window
as enclosing dusk
secures your treasures

your head on the pillow,
child of the moon,
in your blanket of hopes