Passing hues of greens and blues,
Days strewn across acres of snow,
His time grown longer,
Past the fading of moons,
Through the winding chimes of fall.

I can see it now,
Though it isn't clear,
It's enough to say I've done something,
To say that I'm not alone,
In a world where being alone is praised.

Black interior seats envision me,
Wrapping around the slightest of sounds,
Completing the time against reeled hooks,
His grown up and realizing,
Things will never be perfect,
But it's good enough to keep pushing.

I can see it now,
Though it isn't clear,
It's enough to say I've done something,
To say that I'm not alone,
In a world where being alone is praised.