25 February 2006

Words on a Winter's Night

The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon each page
The words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The morning light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
And to be once again with with you
- Gordon Lightfoot

This song strikes me tonight. This song always strikes me. I write tonight, surrounded by quiet and honesty. I remember the handful of years ago when this song struck me differently. When I had a taste of seperation in my mouth and a hunger of loneliness that only his touch could cure.

Stuck in the middle of a Canadian winter without your lover is the coldest of feelings. You can relate with the chilling wind and each individual snowflake that longs to be touched, to melt against rosy cheeks and fingertips. You long to have your companion to hold you close, to hold mitten covered hands, to share mugs of hot chocolate with under the night sky or a plethora of blankets.

I am glad I am no longer in a long distance relationship, despite the romance and the drama and amazing ways you invent to say hello.

However, I am home tonight and enjoying my solitude of a small apartment. I like my time alone but I admit it feels odd when he leaves. Even if it is for only the night. I miss his companionship, his body, his music. Just knowing he is there in the other room, tapping at the keyboard with his two fingers or playing his guitar while I am curled up with a book or my journal in the other room. I am not ashamed to admit I am positively dependent! I may secretly complain that I loathe domesticity, but I feel a certain lack when I am only making tea for one.

I will take advantage of this time wisely. I will take a long bath with a good book (I am tempted to start a book about serial killers, however being home alone may or may not cause paranoia and/or sleeplessness). I will continue forth with my cross-stitching though my eyes feel sore. I will listen to certain embarrassing cds I own and shamelessly dance, if I feel compelled (Ultravox, anyone?!). And if the true crime book on serial killers freaks me out, I will confidently sleep with a baseball bat tonight.

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