Ice

I should have left before, when it was better;
I'd hoped it would stay warmer, more inviting,
The wind somewhat less shrill, somewhat less biting,
The overall effect, which now is wetter,
A wee bit drier, and the icy fetter
Of darkness outrageous; fear-exciting
Blasts from the Arctic would not be alighting
On my frail shoulders. All this, to the letter,
Is what I hoped would not be but is brewing
While others who were wiser, faster, smarter
Have fled the area and stand in sweet
Delightful places. I should now be ruing
My choice; but that was always a two-parter:
By staying here I made sure that we'd meet.