If I would ring you, I'd hear the ice of you, I'd hear your politeness; it would dribble and crust. I'd feel the chill of you. We opened the book of our old love; I danced on the lines of lust but you saw two lovers nd no script. You closed the book, snap. You were too quick. You might have found a new Spring. You might have rescued me from the ice pool I slipped in. If I would ring you, I'd hear you hesitate with your polite summer words, not giving yourself, afraid I would want you again. But I'm lost in the covers, in a word maze. When you snapped the book shut, you caught my new dress in it, my dress with the flowers and long sleeves. You have me, you make love to me, in the printed words on the pages. A man and woman can't be lovers and friends, you said, as you walked away with me in your arms, between the covers, in the book with the crimson covers.