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.