Snowclouds Poem by C Richard Miles

Did you not clock those clouds that, small and stray,
Have drifted, grey as ghosts, across my skies:
Those sombre spectres stealing sense away
And dimming all desire that ardour dies?
Did you not spot that snow that, dense and deep,
Has sifted, white as wool, across my track;
That muffling blanket smothering love to sleep
And killing cold, so all is bleak and black?
No! You saw simply sunshine after gloom
And lifted all the darkness from my night.
With your kind kisses, clouds can never grow,
For, when you slipped serenely in my room,
You gifted me both bliss and beauty bright
And your pure passion melts the deepest snow.