Absence

Fondness is not kindled by absence, the heart seeks solace not isolation,

cold December nights are not easily endured when the cool chill air finds you alone, it seeps through flesh and settles in for slumber,

icy fingers caress the bone and wrap themselves around the soul, want of warmth now so complete, sleet now courses through the veins,

a freeze so total that frostbite would be a welcome respite, absence is the dying of the light

A Rogues poem,  by Joseph Friend