Meet me in Hauts-de France, a train that will take us to Brussels the next day’
I stood rigid on a wintry night of a wisp December, bright but dark city of Lille outside a desolate gare
‘We missed the train’ I whispered to myself. His promised turned into ashes, blown by the wind
the snow is starting to fall and I looked up, as it creates an image of a slow motion
‘maybe, we could go to London’ oh, silly natter
The frigid wind burned my hands as I dire for friction
‘He is not coming’ my head yelped in fear
I called the taxi, and looked back for the lastime, the only thing that lights up is the lamp post with the effect of a falling snow
The road was empty
but as this one light stood out,
it gave me hope
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Meet me in Hauts-de France, a train that will take us to Brussels the next day’
I stood rigid on a wintry night of a wisp December, bright but dark city of Lille outside a desolate gare
‘We missed the train’ I whispered to myself. His promised turned into ashes, blown by the wind
the snow is starting to fall and I looked up, as it creates an image of a slow motion
‘maybe, we could go to London’ oh, silly natter
The frigid wind burned my hands as I dire for friction
‘He is not coming’ my head yelped in fear
I called the taxi, and looked back for the lastime, the only thing that lights up is the lamp post with the effect of a falling snow
The road was empty
but as this one light stood out,
it gave me hope
