There are so many of you,
Floating, Flying,
You are painting the invisible wind white.
You are gentle but harsh,
The way you touch my skin,
Tt reminds me of something old.
My heart is jumping a little,
My finger tips numb,
Tis the season.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
There are so many of you,
Floating, Flying,
You are painting the invisible wind white.
You are gentle but harsh,
The way you touch my skin,
Tt reminds me of something old.
My heart is jumping a little,
My finger tips numb,
Tis the season.
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