Comfort in the promise
Of no promises at all
Knowing your warmth may be fleeting
I await the cold
For the fool hopes for the swearing of always
Wrapped in lavender cloth
But the wise await for the winter that no shelter can withstand.
I ran to you knowing your feet had the ability to run in opposition
So I approached you and waited for your feet to move

And so they did.

The winter bird wrecked my home and frosted my woven flowers.
And now I stand pale and alone
As the wiser.