Andouni
The child relaxes As the home fires are lit And all the night lies outside. Fades the fields, the grain, But dares not reach its bony fingers out, To touch the fire. Sit down my young friend. Winds are chill and chafe around you, Howl as if their hungry questions, Will not cease upon the shutters of the windows, Windows that close out the night. But I —– Can not see the lights that call you....