You wrote my context with no side quest,
when you let me sing your tone.
Beneath my skin-coloured lined chest,
you close my eyes to seek us alone.

I felt content for one reason:
to smile along my way in the rain.
You grace warmth in the off-season,
to line your joy with my pain.

You let the cold brush pass
as we're led down the alleys and paths.
In your whites and my faded cast,
within each step, I could sense your heart.

You utter a word to hear my line,
when in distance, you were close.
I would rest my eyes to see you in mine;
if blindfolded, I knew you the most.