Alone I wait for winter
with this wanderlust and this pen,
alone I wait for winter
with these dreams of snow and fire.
Let this breath be a soft mist of questions,
let this window be wet with rain,
let me witness the traveler with his
horse and with his cart,
let me hear a distant violin
along a road of cobbled stones,
let these words fall like tears
of the deepest sorrow.
May the stars be bashful
in the darkest of skies.
may her long black hair
sleep forever in my mind.
Alone I wait for winter
with my banjo and my gypsy cards,
alone I wait for winter
where love and hate collide …
Clay.M
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC
Alone I wait for winter
with this wanderlust and this pen,
alone I wait for winter
with these dreams of snow and fire.
Let this breath be a soft mist of questions,
let this window be wet with rain,
let me witness the traveler with his
horse and with his cart,
let me hear a distant violin
along a road of cobbled stones,
let these words fall like tears
of the deepest sorrow.
May the stars be bashful
in the darkest of skies.
may her long black hair
sleep forever in my mind.
Alone I wait for winter
with my banjo and my gypsy cards,
alone I wait for winter
where love and hate collide …
Clay.M
