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Stay near me. Speak my name.
Oh, do not wander by a thought’s span, heart’s impulse, from the light we kindle here.
You are my sole defender (as I am yours) in this precipitous night, which over earth, till common landmarks alter, is falling, without stars, and bitter cold.
We two have but our burning selves for shelter.
Huddle against me. Give me your hand to hold.

So might two climbers lost in mountain weather on a high slope and taken by the storm, desperate in the darkness, cling together under one cloak and breathe each other warm.
Stay near me.
Spirit, perishable as bone, in no such winter can survive alone.

P. McGinley