Mar 2018
The first footsteps were quiet, love
Like the whispered touch of snow upon the ground.
The day was gray, but the colors true.
It’s a shame that the violets never bloomed.
Like the whispered touch of snow upon the ground.
The day was gray, but the colors true.
It’s a shame that the violets never bloomed.
When you know something is wrong, but don't know exactly what.
