I hide my hand
In my pocket
Else I see it
Drifting alone
Swaying in the wind
Alone and solemn.
The spaces between my fingers
Through which grey slate is seen
Where yours fit perfectly
Leave biting cold
Up each cold clenched claw.
I hide my hand
In my pocket
To stop it missing you
To let it feel synthetic warmth
Through pocket’s balmy hug.