I looked into the room, and she was kept in ice, all frozen there and dead in ice. And so I kissed the woman sleeping in her death and prayed I’d give her life. And I might fall in love if I could grow a heart, and I might warm her still if I were warm myself. Yet all of this is but a dream I dreamt to make me smile—I am too young, I am too old, and I’m not worth the while.
And yet I dream and hope and pray that I will meet my love someday.
Tale Told 