Cold

a biting cold, wet nose and numb skin
a thin white sheet, sullied but safe
climb the ladder in a closet of rubbish
temporary sanctuary above
a hat on my head, and my head in a book

a clatter of clamor
a rumbling of rambles
then she came, offering hand
no mind can be clear
in places such as these

under the table we retired
and made up for the warmth
the sheet would not provide
and I felt a radiating love
-the cold couldn't stay