One man other only I loved so, and he became black and poison within his heart. Robin did not. Night closed over his head like dark water, but never was it inside him. Still I see the light of him, like a small star through leaves on a clear cold night. And never have I loved a woman so, in all the silken tents of youth.

She is that clear cold night. And the fire that warms it.

Brighter she burns now, and lovelier, in her sorrow.

I can no more touch her as his widow than as his wife.

All story elements created by Richard Carpenter.
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