I keep your memory
In the ashes of a cold fireplace,
Next to which, I sit;
On the cool cabin floor;
Dreaming of spring shine.

Whilst the world outside,
Softly whispers melodies,
of snow sung winds;
Dancing through pine trees,
Like fireflies in the dark.

Yet I have still, a heart of flint,
That sparks in the moonlight,
Upon souls of silken steel;
Thawing these pine wood bones,
Damp with the windy winter.

But ****** be these winds,
Which claw colder than ice,
Upon Crimson cabin walls,
That shiver in the snow;
Tangled up in blue-stained starlight.

So here, I sit dreaming,
Of spring shine from the east,
Of a roaring fire inside my skin;
As the memory of this fireplace,
Melts into a child's laughter.