As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

Bit by bit,
Your calendar starts to fill again
This time it fills with things for you
You and only you

Your calendar,
It has more white than before
But now the white looks like snow
Instead of the ice from before.