I’m in your worn out sweaters
And tear stained letters,
All the dark sides of the moon.
In the leaves of fall
You can hear me call
On a breezy afternoon.
I’m the taste of honey,
But someday, honey,
You’ll be tasting someone new.
And I hope you tell „oh
The girl in yellow
Let me go
And grow
And feel the west wind blow
And somehow it led me to you.“

- p. winter