If the Rain in Warsaw Sounds Like This      From a secret they shaped   A room in London—   A breath of space   Lit by a single candle’s hush.     Out there the war was cold,   Close to freezing.   But they were warm within.     Stillness gathered.   They listened to icy rain   Softly striking stone—   Each drop a touch,   A covert word   Only they understood.     It was a fragile pact:   Two selves from opposing worlds,   Folded into one,   Briefly, tenderly.     Then a man