Your Humble Poet

in feet of snow
on wings of miles
by travelling
I found my ways
to be with you
in hearts and hearths
on Christmas Eve
and other days
and when the dark
comes gathered in
and spooky winds
blow candles out
I cupped my hands
about your ears
and whispered soft
to still your doubt


Man, I wrote that like, all in one go!

Not sure about the end part.

Uh, the mixed-tense shtick is deliberate. Not that that's any excuse.