A Cold Hutong Night

I lay here alone, in the waning of the night.

The cold is held aside, as long as there is light.

In the dark the cold looms, hovers over like a shade

the drops that reach the floor are but a remiander of the day.

It's not the end, but a new that instills me with fright.

Forver the fear may bring about, that which is my eternal light