As I lean on my cozy chair,
I can hear the faint sounds
of, the pursuing music that hounds,
this season, warming my cold ear.

My hair still flying in the cold,
dancing as, they try to hold
on to the beats that, behold
the air with love that, heals the cold.

It helps me pick your pieces
and, juxtapose so that I can repose;
atleast tonight in the moonlight
with you, as we will sew the pieces.

Pieces, they whisper,
as they fall, that they are sharper
than the memories that linger
in both of our minds, they are just lovelier.

Don't try to hesitate, just remember
the tunes and the numbers that number
the beats, as we dance
in our beautiful transparent trance.