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There is not one bird

To sing my epitaph.

The white and blue

Pierce mu freezing eye.

The hungry waves lap

Stupidly, unchangingly

Against my ever dwindling raft...

I will be warm again -

When it is too late...

The fingers of my mind

Reach out for memories

But warmth and sun,

They float away

Like flakes of snow...

Water is life

But here all is dead -

My own warm sap

Is trickling slower yet...

The shivering has ceased up,

The bite of cold no longer hurts

A faint and strange music

Now flows down to me…

Drifting

On my shard of ice,

Drifting far away

- 'Til a warm kiss ends it all

Bereft of all my powers

I cannot will a limb to move;

All my hopes are frozen –

The blue cold creeps into my head:

The mind will be the last to go...