Winter Rites

[Dark Muse]

The winter wind
chills my skin
it is a memory
of your eyes
piercing to the bone
like a hawk in flight.

I would cross
the barren snow
to find my way
to you if you
would wait for me,
ever drifting
away within the mist.

A phantom of love
haunting me,
but on the darkest
night your hands,
your lips,
the words like air
woven into my hair,
are my warmth
keeping me alive.

In the howling
of the blizzard
faintly I hear
the dirge of Pan's death,
with our love alone
we could breathe
into the Old Goat
new life.

We shall make him
an altar of stone
and yew, I shall
carry his statue
of clay within it
the secrets of
passion lie,
enough to keep you
an ever present
ghost upon my
doorstep.

[YesNo]

I liked the second stanza the best with the willingness to risk walking through snow if the lover would wait where that lover's patience is itself another risk.

It seems like "and" in the third to the last line should be "an", but I might be misreading it.