and so that was it we carried on like spring turned to summer and we fell like autumn leaves and winter snow
cold and bitter our hearts were but warm and sweet our souls
the walls were never opened up blown away like ash and dust the tiny house on the hill with a fence surrounding forbidden entry with a sign that said βalways welcomeβ
too tired couldn't sleep laying awake too long saw the sun come up it wouldn't last for you
cold we looked but warm we felt your fire melted the war inside armour fell through caved in like a house of cards enclosing the life that once was
and slowly but surely we fell like autumn leaves and winter snow we changed the way spring's rain grew summer's flowers and that was it so we carried on
Not specifically for anything/anyone, I just had words. They don't make much sense but poetry isn't about what's written on the page, it's about the way it makes you feel.