Through the wind and howling breeze
I see a figure standing stout
I hear the sound of birds and trees
But from the figure I hear nowt.
But a whisper that bends my ears
And burns the trees to a cinder
A voice I’ve yearned for all these years
To hear in the dead of winter.
One step is made to come but closer
A smile upon my face
As winter hath not froze her
A miracle in this place.
For the love I feel is strong and just
It’s My heart in her that I do trust.