When I'm here;
My soul does not stir.
It settles behind closed eyes
And breathes a contented breath...
A summer sigh.
Knowing that the winter will return,
Like an old friend.
Along with the whistling radiators...
To hold to cold in utter contempt,
And to warm my frostbitten fingers.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
When I'm here;
My soul does not stir.
It settles behind closed eyes
And breathes a contented breath...
A summer sigh.
Knowing that the winter will return,
Like an old friend.
Along with the whistling radiators...
To hold to cold in utter contempt,
And to warm my frostbitten fingers.
